The First Time
by purdys pal
Summary: The is a first time for everything, and sometimes the first time should be the last. A series of different 'first times'. Suggestions welcome.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Burn Notice or any of the characters.

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The First Time

She strode along the pavement, her new boots were hurting her feet but she kept going. The feeling only adding fuel to her anger.

She could not believe what he had done. No, that was a lie. She could completely believe it. It was the same everytime she tried to get him to show some honest emotion. Only he hadn't even bothered with arguing, he had just given her a ferocious look, then stormed off. Somehow that was worse than all the usual shouting.

A meal somewhere nice to be followed by dancing at a club, or even a walk on the beach would have been acceptable, she knew how much he hated night clubs. Some together time, away from the apartment. God, she was beginning to hate that apartment. A chance to tell him her news. Maybe celebrate, surely that was not to much to ask for.

Apparently it was, because three times in the last two weeks he had cancelled on her. Once for a job that could not possibly wait another day. The second time because his Mother needed him to take her across town, she couldn't remember why, but he had made it sound so important. Lastly, and this one had nearly caused her to wring his neck, because his damn car wasn't running right.

Finally though she had managed it, an eight o clock reservation at an inexpensive but nice resturant. She had dressed up and laid out his freshly dry cleaned suit with a new shirt. He spent the first part of the night being charming and attentive. He had even laughed at all the funny little things she said, and with the evening going so well, she took a chance and told him her big secret.

He had looked at her totally horrified. His eyes had widened, his lips thinned out. Then came the look she hated, the cold blank stare. He slammed down his knife and fork, and got to his feet so abruptly the chair fell over backwards.

"How could you?" He hissed, through his teeth. Then he stormed off, nearly knocking a waiter over in his hurry to get out.

She sat for a moment, a blush creeping over her face, tears welling in her eyes. Everyone staring at her, that was when embarrassment was replaced by rage. Shaking with anger she had paid for the half eaten meal and rushed outside, expecting him to be waiting. Instead she stared open mouthed as she caught sight of his car vanishing around a corner.

So here she was, high heel boots tapping angrily along the pavement, her very short pale green dress riding up her thighs with each step, getting her admiring glances. Her long hair, worn loose hanging down nearly to her waist, was annoying her so she pulled out a band and soon had it up in a high pony tail without breaking stride. Next her gold dangling ear rings went into her bag, a bag that was swinging dangerously, just waiting until she caught him up and could wrap the bag round his neck. It was close to a mile walk to his Mother's, it was where he would go. So that was where she was heading.

.

What the hell had she expected, dropping that sort of news on him, in public. He raged. Oh he knew exactly why she had chosen to do it there, probably thought he would just take it. Every so often they had some sort of discussion about family, about _him_ settling down. Couldn't she get it through her thick skull, he had lost his main source of income. These little side jobs barely kept her in shoes, and the car running. She even complained about the time he spent away, how he didn't always tell her what he was doing.

He felt sorry for himself, driving round Miami at breakneck speed hadn't helped as much as he hoped it would. Without conscious thought he found himself parked up on his Mother's driveway.

.

His Mother had looked up from watching the TV, as he slammed through the door, dropping the car keys on the sideboard. He stalked over to the fridge and got a beer, knocking the cap off on the kitchen counter.

"Was that necessary?" She asked, talking around the cigarette hanging out the side of her mouth.

"Yes." Came the angry response. She had been about to ask what was wrong, but closed her mouth the words unsaid. _God he looks just like his father,_ She thought.

He switched the channel on the TV to a sports programme, giving her a narrow eyed stare, daring her to complain. Then slouched down onto the sofa, feet banging onto the coffee table.

She got to her feet and carefully moved round him and into her bedroom. She recognized the warning signs and was making sure she was out of the way when the storm broke.

About to light another cigarette she jumped as she heard the rattle of a key in the front door and then the slam of it being shut with force.

"Keep your mouth shut girl, if you know what's good for you." She whispered.

.

"You left me sat there on my own." She had meant to sound angry, but her feet hurt and she was tired from the walk. Nothing about the evening had gone how she hoped.

He stared at her, brown eyes hooded, a sneer on his lips. When had he ever sneered at her before? "So." Came the insolent reply.

Against this disdain she seemed to collapse inwards, the anger leaving her. "We can make this work, I know we can. Why can't you just be happy?" Her lip trembled.

"Happy! I've no steady work. We're living in a crap apartment, and now you tell me you're pregnant. What the hell am I meant to be happy about?" His face was flushed with anger as he shouted at her, the beer bottle flew out of his hand. Smashing into the wall sending out shards of glass across the room. She staggered back, blood pouring from a deep cut just beneath her hair line.

For a second they both froze, then she let out a scream as blood ran into her eyes. He was at her side in an instant.

"Jesus Maddie, I'm so sorry, it'll never happen again I promise." He tried to get her to sit down, "Ma!" He shouted. "Ma get us a cloth. Maddie's had an accident." He took the cloth from his Mother and put pressure onto the wound. "You forgive me right?" He asked holding her in his arms. His dark eyes now pleading.

"Yes Frank, I forgive you. It's my fault I shouldn't of told you like that." She mumbled. As she shook with shock, Ma Westen handed her a cigarette.

"There you go girl that'll calm your nerves." She said kindly, leaning in with her lighter.

Madeline sucked in the smoke, inhaling deeply feeling a small level of calm returning to her body.

"There, that's better isn't?" The older woman smiled. "Now Frank you take her home and in the morning you get your lazy butt out of bed and go see about a marriage licence."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two,

The first time, you realize you have competition.

As tired and sore as she was when Madeline looked down on her tiny son she didn't believe it was possible to love anything quite so much. She also felt an amazing debt of gratitude to Ma Westen who had helped her through the whole thing. With no health insurance she had been terrified something would go wrong, but her mother in law had turned up with an off duty midwife. The daughter of a friend, who had stayed for the birth and checked new mother and baby over before leaving with fifty dollars from the older Mrs Westen.

Madeline was still holding her son, enjoying the peace and quiet when Frank came blundering into their bedroom. He had run off to find his friends as soon as his Mother had announced the birth was imminent and he was now back stinking of stale beer and whiskey.

"So let's have a look at my boy." He spoke loudly, she clutched the baby tighter to her chest as he reached down and plucked the child straight from her arms.

Frank held the baby boy up so he could get a good look him. On top of a head which lolled to one side he had black tufty hair still damp from being cleaned up, black brows that were scrunching up in distress at being held suspended in the air and large dark blue eyes which blinked rapidly, beginning to well with tears.

"Frank you have to support his head." She was half out of bed clutching the blue baby blanket he had been wrapped in.

"Stop worrying woman. He'll be fine." Getting a strong sent of whiskey the baby screwed up his face and then began to wail. Loud hiccuping cries of distress.

"Frank, please give him back he doesn't like being held like that." She was up now and trying to get to her child.

"Well he damn well better get use to it." Frank's voice was getting louder to be heard over the crying that was becoming more and more frantic. Roughly he changed his hold and cradled the still howling child in one arm close to his chest.

From the lounge came the sound of the record player being switched on, the volume being cranked up and the voices of Frank's friends enjoying themselves. He had invited everyone he knew to celebrate the birth of his first child.

"Michael, right?" He glanced back at his wife as he tried unsuccessfully to get the baby to stop crying. Michael, named after his own Father, and by coincidence Madeline's Grandfather. She nodded miserably as he left the bedroom with the newborn, wanting to show him off to his friends. She sat on the bed listening to the noisy celebrations that were going on next door.

Ma Westen let her son make one circuit of the room, his drunken buddies pawing at the newborn before taking Michael, who was still screaming back to his Mother. Dipping into her own purse she handed Frank what she had left and sent him and his friends back out to party elsewhere.

As soon as the apartment returned to peace and quiet, Ma Westen looked over at her daughter in law.

"I'm going to head home now. You need anything before I go?"

"You're leaving?" She couldn't believe she was going to left alone with this tiny helpless bundle.

"You'll be fine." She gave a reassuring smile. "I'll be back tomorrow, try and have a bath when he goes to sleep."

Madeline listened as the door shut and then the lock clicked. "Well it's just you and me kid." She looked down on the black tufty hair. His eyes were shut his lips pouting as he made a suckling motion.

She hadn't realized how prophetic her words were, when Frank didn't come home for a week. When he did he had a black eye, split lip, his clothes were splattered with blood and he 's feelings were hurt when she didn't even ask what had happened to him. Madeline's well ordered first week of Motherhood came to a sudden end.

It was at this point Madeline realized she actually had two children. One was an actual baby, he required very little to keep him happy. While it had just been the two of them Michael rarely cried. The other was in fact more like an out of control two year old.

Having been AWOL for a week Frank had lost his job, a job he had managed to keep for nearly six months, a job he had hated from the day he had started there. Now he was under foot all day and getting increasingly frustrated about Michael.

He could not understand it, every time he went close to where his son lay, Michael would open his blue eyes and then open his mouth a let loose with a loud almost frantic wail. He would keep this noise up until his Mother appeared and picked him up. This led to Frank's second complaint, he could not get near his wife.

At night the little boy woke up every four hours to feed, if he realized his father was in the same bed he would begin to howl. So Madeline started to sleep on the couch hoping to keep the peace. During the day whenever Michael slept, so would Madeline. With very little money coming in, and far too much time on his hands Frank was drinking more and more. The more Frank drank, the more they argued and the more Michael screamed.

Frank lay on the sofa eyeing his son who was fast asleep his head resting on Madeline's chest. An idea forming in his head. Madeline wouldn't leave the kid with anybody because she was breast feeding and they didn't have any bottles. He would set about fixing that problem, he wondered why he hadn't thought about it before. Get his Mother to watch the boy, and then he could spend sometime alone with his wife. It had been two months since they had spent anytime together that didn't involve being deafened by howling.

By mid afternoon he had everything, it had been harder work that he had expected. A set of four bottles and teats, a sterilizing unit and a piece of kit called a breast pump which according to the box was necessary to express milk. Three whole hours of intense shop lifting got him the baby equipment, he could of done it quicker but the was no way he wanted to be caught stealing that stuff.

Now he just had to pry mother away from child and he could get what he wanted. A little bit of the love and attention that his off spring was hogging.


	3. Chapter 3

The first time, Madeline wondered just how clumsy Michael really was.

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Frank's Mother died unexpectedly from a heart attack when Michael was about nine months old. After the funeral they moved into the house. They had been on the verge of being kicked out of the apartment because of the noise from all the fighting. Ma Westen's house was fully paid for, she had used her own husband's insurance money to pay off the mortgage. She had wanted the security of always having a home for her and her son.

Michael revelled in the extra freedom, the second Madeline turned her back he would be off, crawling across the floor as fast as he could go. Madeline herself had been wary about taking over her Mother in law's home but soon found herself settling in and slowly making little changes. Making it her home. Frank also changed, out of the city he was away from all his drinking buddies. He was back in work, full time work with a pay packet every week. Fitting sprinkler systems in gardens. The outdoor work tanned his skin, the manual labour toned his muscles and the hours of work kept him sober. All in all they were a happy little family.

.

Madeline was truly thankful for the extra room now Michael was on his feet, only the day before he had been running on the lawn giggling away to himself. She smiled at the memory.

"Maddie, you better get in here Mikey's fallen over again!" Frank's shout brought her from the kitchen through into the lounge. Since he had started toddling she had never realized a child could be so clumsy, not a day passed where he didn't fall or knock something over.

"God, Frank pick him up." She yelled. Michael sat on the floor, a large bump and a bruise already beginning to form on his forehead.

"He screams every time I touch him, you're the only one he'll go to." Frank snapped, opening a newspaper and leaning back in his chair.

Madeline gathered Michael up in her arms and carried him over to the kitchen counter. Sitting him down she looked him over. He stared at her sniffing and rubbing at his eyes, flinching as she examined his head.

"I think we might have to take him to hospital." She announced, worried about the fact he wasn't crying and the size of the lump forming.

"You took him in only two weeks ago because he fell on the stairs. You'll have them calling you an unfit Mother if you keep this up." He replied not even glancing over.

Madeline bit her lip and looked from her child to her husband. It was true she had been taking Mikey to the hospital a lot recently. Maybe Frank was right, she would keep a close eye on him tonight if he showed any signs of getting worse she could take him then.

By bedtime Michael was no different, so she put him to bed planning on sleeping in the same room as him just to be sure.

Michael lay in his cot, wrapped in a blanket, thumb in his mouth. Madeline was relieved he didn't seem any the worse for wear after his tumble. She jumped slightly as Frank's arm wrapped around her waist.

"C'mon he's fine, let's get to bed." He whispered in her ear.

"I'm going to watch him tonight."

He pulled her round. "He's asleep, stop smothering him and come to bed." He pulled her away from the cot. She resisted but only for a moment, he was sleeping and if she tried to stay it would develop into a fight.

Later on as she lay in bed she found her mind straying in a very troubling direction. It struck her that Mikey seemed to do most of his falling over or running into things when she was out of the room. She shifted in the bed to stare at her husband.

'He wouldn't.' she thought, 'He's just a baby.' She shook her head, it was ridiculous Mikey was just clumsy like a lot of toddlers. It was her fault, she would just have to watch him more carefully that was all.

Madeline was amazed at the difference it made. Paying more attention to the little boy stopped him getting into all sorts of trouble. He had only a couple of accidents, like when he grabbed a cable attached to a table light and pulled it onto the floor. Or when she caught him trying to climb into the washing machine after she had put his favourite teddy in for a wash. Her earlier fears completely slipped her mind.

Other things were encroaching on her mind now, with the coming hurricane season the sprinkler business had come to the end and Frank was laid off work.

From his position on the sofa he watched Madeline bustle about the house cleaning and polishing. She glared at him, lifting his mug of coffee and pointedly putting it back on a coaster.

"What?" He demanded.

"This was your Mom's table, I thought you'd want to keep it nice."

He grabbed hold of her wrist so tight she gasped in pain. "Don't back talk." He growled.

She pulled her wrist free and rubbed it gently with her other hand. "Fine, you're not bothered, neither am I." She snapped. She had better things to do than stand around arguing with him for the rest of the morning. A quick check showed her Mikey was sitting quietly playing with his wooden bricks so she decided not to disturb him while she put on a load of clothes into the washer.

She was bent over, pushing the clothes into the machine when she heard the curse, followed by a loud wailing cry. Instantly she rushed back into the lounge, the sight that greeted her was of her husband holding her son aloft violently shaking him. In an instant she was across the room, pulling Michael out of his arms.

"Get the hell out of the house now." Her blue eyes narrowed as she cradled her boy to her chest. Frank went to say something, but stopped as she had reached down and now held one his empty beer bottles in her hand.

She watched him slip his shoes on and then leave, slamming the door behind him. "Oh Mikey, what has he done to you?" She sat down with him on her lap, rocking him gently trying to calm him down.

She knew she should take him to the hospital, but Frank's words were still in her head from weeks earlier. They would think she had hurt her son.

Frank stayed away for a week, then she woke one morning to find him sitting on the bed, a bunch of flowers in his hand and a charming smile on his face.

"I'm so sorry Maddie, it's just one of his damn bricks tripped me up and I nearly fell on him. I was so worried I wanted to try and make him understand he couldn't leave his stuff lying around like that. You know I wouldn't deliberately hurt him don't you?" He smiled and lent in to kiss her cheek.

Madeline stiffened, but in her mind she was already making excuses. She knew what his temper was like, how he could lash out and not really mean it. She accepted the kiss, she would try to explain to Mikey. He would have to be more careful with his things. She would make sure he was in his cot or with her when Frank was there. It would all work out.

"Yes Frank, I know. You just scared me that was all."

"Good." He started to undress. "You know you're the only one for me don't you Maddie. You understand me so well. We'll make this work, you'll see." He climbed into the bed snuggling down against her.


	4. Chapter 4

The first time. Michael stole a car.

Michael always found it amusing that his Mother thought on the day she desperately needed a car he just happened to learn how to break into, start up and drive one back home.

He shook his head, his Mother was many things but stupid wasn't one of them. However she had a great capacity to alter the truth to fit her version of reality. He supposed living in a house with Frank Westen for thirty years would do that to anyone.

.

He was eight years old, home from school because of a black eye and badly bruised arm. Madeline had gone shopping taking Nate with her, and he was at home alone with dear old Dad. He had been playing in his bedroom when the phone rang. Moments later the was a bang on his bedroom door.

"C'mon boy," Frank growled, throwing the door open. "We gotta go out." He slipped on his sunglasses and grabbed the keys to his latest muscle car.

Michael held back, just for a second or two, Madeline had told him to stay in doors. She didn't want the neighbours to see the state of his face.

"I said move it boy, I've gotta job to do and you're gonna have to come with me."

Shrugging, he got to his feet, and quickly found his trainers. As he pulled them on he could feel his Father's eyes boring into him.

"Sometime this week Mikey." The was a warning in the tone. Michael moved quicker, with his trainers on he grabbed up a long sleeve shirt and a baseball cap. He hated the attention his bruises got as much as his Mother did. It was easier to cover up than to answer stupid questions.

They drove into the city without speaking a word, ending up outside a row of garages. Michael stayed in the car when Frank got out, peering out of the window he recognized Dougie, his Father's best friend. He watched as the two men stood talking, sinking down into the car seat as both turned to stare at him.

"Mikey, get your butt out here, Now." his father ordered.

Reluctantly he obeyed, going to his Father's side, shoulders hunched, eyes on the ground.

"Hey, Mikey." Dougie gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "You want to help me and your Dad with some cars?"

No, he wanted to be back at home playing with his own toy cars. But he gave Dougie a weak smile. "Sure." It was always paid to tell the adults what they wanted to hear.

"Good boy, come here and I'll show you what we want you to do." He handed Michael a screwdriver and a tyre iron.

He spent the next hour stuffed into a foot well of one of Dougie's cars learning how to break off the cowling from around a steering wheel, strip cables down to the wire and finally which wires to put together to get the car to start. After a little while he found he was actually enjoying himself and for once his Dad was praising him.

Dougie's little car repair business had been hit by hard times, he was so far in debt he couldn't get credit for the parts he needed to fix the cars he had in to repair. So his plan was simple he would steal similar cars and strip them down for the parts he needed and sell off the remainder.

Later on they went for a drive, until Dougie spotted the car he was after. Frank pulled up further along the street and Dougie jogged back to the chosen vehicle dragging Michael along with him. A quick look up and down for any witnesses then he jimmied the car door open and pushed Michael inside. With Michael in the foot well, and the door pushed shut, anyone passing wouldn't know the car was being hotwired. As soon as the car started Dougie jumped in, shoving Michael into the passenger seat and they were away.

Afterwards Michael spent the rest of the day watching, and occassionally helping dismantle the stolen car for parts.

By the evening he was exhausted, but puffed up with pride at how happy he had made his Dad. On the way home Frank stopped at one of the big toy stores and took his son inside. Michael came out clutching a box containing a whole new supply of little army figures. With a grin that went nearly ear to ear Michael walked back to the car. Just as he reached for the door handle, he was pulled round with a hard jerk.

"You don't say a word to your Mother about what we've been doing. You understand me boy?" Frank growled his face inches off his little boy's.

Michael nodded, the smile gone from his face.

"That's good." Frank's good mood returned instantly. "Tell you what, how about we go out next week with Uncle Dougie and do the same again?"

"Yeah Dad, that'd be cool." Michael shrugged, wondering how long the mood would last.

The whole family did quite well over the next few weeks, Madeline accepted Frank's explanation that Dougie had found him some cash in hand work. She was just happy that her husband and eldest son seemed to be finally bonding.

It was a month later, just as they were going to turn into Dougie's lock up, Frank spotted a police car. Slowing down they could see the garage being searched and Dougie in handcuffs. Frank drove straight back home, once there he held onto Michael's arm stopping him getting out of the car.

"You forget about what we've been doing. I hear about you stealing cars or bringing any attention my way and I'll make you wish you were never born." He let go, and Michael jumped out of the car as fast as he could, realizing that his Father's good mood had run its course.

A couple of weeks later, Michael came home from school to find his Mother in tears. He knew it had to be something his Father had done, but what?

"Your Dad has gone away for a while." She sniffed. "we're all alone."

Michael smiled, it was the best news he had got, well ever.


	5. Chapter 5

The first time Frank left her and the boys.

Madeline was not stupid, she knew the money Frank brought into the house had to come from somewhere. She also was pretty sure whatever was going on this time involved Michael. For over a month, Frank took the son he normally at best ignored out with him at every opportunity. They would come back Frank with money in his pockets and Michael with a new toy. She knew deep down she should make Michael tell her what was going on, but she was scared that if she did she it would ruin everything.

It didn't matter in the end, whatever they had been doing was over. Just like that the money dried up and Michael was back to spending most of his time in his room and barely talking.

One morning she got back from taking the boys to school, and was surprised to see the TV switched on. It meant Frank had actually decided to get up before mid-day. Curious about the noise coming from Michael's bedroom she went to have a look. Leaning against the door frame a cigarette in her mouth she observed her husband searching their eldest boy's bedroom.

"Watcha doing Frank?" She asked, just a hint of her anger showing in her voice.

He was throwing all Michael's new toys into a large hold all that already contained some of Nate's better toys and games.

"We need the cash." He told her, not stopping his search. "You want to eat this week, we need money."

"You're taking the kids toys? What about your Mom's jewellery, you've pawned that before." She asked.

"Yeah, well that went yesterday. I had a sure thing that wasn't as sure as I was led to believe. Let me tell you when I get hold of-" He stopped talking and turned to face her. "Did you just hit me?" He growled.

She had, hearing him say he had taken money that should have been buying food for the whole family and gambled it away made her snap. She had taken a swing at his back, hitting him as hard as she could.

"You can't take the kids toys Frank." She backed up, as his eyes narrowed.

"I'll tell you what Maddie I'm getting sick of listening to you nag about every little thing I do." He picked the bag up and headed for the door, shoving her hard up against the wall.

She grabbed at his arm. "I won't let you take-" She began to shout.

He cut off her words, a hand wrapped around her throat, pinning her against the wall feet barely on the floor.

"You think you can do better." He was nose to nose with her. "Let's see how you cope without me." He let go and watched her collapse onto her knees. Picking up the bag he was on his way, just stopping to take a quick look through her purse. "You better get out and find a job Maddie." Was his parting shot and he was gone.

.

Michael came out of school and walked round to where normally he would find his Mother waiting for him with Nate. Instead he was surprised to find Nate on his own, sitting on the kerb. The little boy gave his big brother a relieved smile, he had been waiting on his own for nearly a half hour. Taking hold of Nate's hand Michael led the way back home. Letting them in with the spare key he heard their Mother sobbing, sending Nate to his room he then cautiously approached where she sat. When she told him his Father had left for good he couldn't help but smile, the smile didn't even fade when she told him the was nothing for them to eat.

As Madeline sat feeling sorry for herself, Michael told Nate to stay in his room and play quietly. He then headed down the road to the nearby Mini market. He ambled around the aisles putting the food he wanted into the basket, then he slowly made his way to the tills. When he was pretty sure everyone was busy he took a deep breath and made a run for it. He ran straight across the car park and was almost to the road when he felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him round.

"You little shit Westen, get back here now." The shop owners son had hold of his collar and when he resisted the youth punched him in the face. On any normal eight year old it would have been enough to make him let go of the basket and burst into tears. But Michael was well used to being hit by someone a lot bigger and meaner than a short skinny twevle year old boy. He did drop the basket, but only so he could launch his own attack. The bag boy went down to a hail of punches and kicks that had far more power than the average eight year old. Michael only stopped when he was out of breath, and panting. He looked at what he had done and for the first time felt powerful. Grabbing up the basket he ran off.

When he got home he had expected Madeline to be angry with him. He knew stealing was wrong, he also knew what he had done to the bag boy was wrong and the was evidence of the fight he couldn't hide. He had a black eye and his knuckles were skinned. He held out the shopping still in the metal basket, waiting to get at least a telling off.

Madeline looked at her eldest son's face taking in the fresh bruise then turned her attention to the food he had brought home. She hid her feelings well, and solemnly took the basket off him.

"Thank you Mikey." She said quietly, and turned to put the food away.

He stood for a moment, thinking maybe she would do the same as his Dad, let him think he had got away with what he had done and then pounce once his guard was down.

She turned back to him. "It's ok Mikey go play I'll call you when supper is ready."

.

Over the following months Madeline noticed the change that was coming over her eldest boy. He always had been a quiet and serious little boy but now the was a cockiness creeping into his character. She knew he was stealing food from various shops, he was also getting money from somewhere. She would open her purse and find it full of ten and twenty dollar bills. She caught him hanging out with a group of older boys from the neighbourhood. He had agreed to stay away from them when she asked him to, but the next day she saw him on the same street corner back with them. She was regularly called up to the school because he was either missing classes or he was there and getting into fights . He was nine years old and she was fast losing control over him.

.

In some ways when Frank appeared on the doorstep she was relieved. He had been up to Atlantic City and during the six months he had been away he had hit a winning streak. He had a new car, a black Dodge Charger with a white leather interior, and a job working security in a nightclub at South Beach . He was settled back into the house by the time the boys got in from school.

Nate was over joyed, rushing over for a big hug and instantly started asking questions and jumping around with excitement. Michael watched his younger brother's antics, his lip curling into a sneer.

"No hug for your old Dad?" Frank asked, smiling at Michael's obivous anger.

"Son of a bitch!" Michael cursed and turned away. He had made a serious error of judgement, the beating he took would of been a lot worse if Madeline hadn't managed to pull Frank off at one point, allowing him to escape to his bedroom and lock the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter six,

The first time Michael threw the first punch.

Part 1.

.

Christmas eve,

Madeline was woken up in the early hours of the morning by doors slamming, Frank staggered into the bedroom, but before she could berate him for being so drunk he had handed her two tickets for a Christmas dinner and dance at the Hotel Oro. Then as she sat up in bed looking at the tickets he threw five twenty dollar bills at her.

"You'll need a new dress for tonight. Will that be enough?" He breathed whiskey fumes all over her, then fell onto the bed fully clothed and started snoring.

Madeline was stunned, but could not of been happier, ignoring her husband, after closely examining the tickets she clutched them and the money to her chest and laid back down eventually falling back asleep.

.

In the morning she was up early, washed and fully dressed before Nate appeared, the eleven year old watched with curiousity as his Mother hummed a Christmas carol while making breakfast.

"I want you to make sure your room is tidy and your clothes for tomorrow are clean and ironed." She told him. Dropping a plate in front of him she headed to her older son's bedroom.

"Mike I need you up and dressed."

Nate didn't hear his brother's response. "Now Michael." She used a firmer tone of voice.

Nothing was going to ruin today, she was going to make sure Nate was kept busy and Michael was out of the house before she left to go shopping. That way Frank would sleep off his hangover in peace and be ready for the evening.

When Michael appeared looking like he had only just gone to bed, dressed in the clothes he had on when he went out yesterday Madeline did not bat an eyelid. He sat down rubbing a hand through his hair and over his eyes, she plonked his breakfast down in front of him which he immediately pushed away.

"I want you to spend the day out." She told him bluntly. "Go round a friends house, just be back here for six."

Michael raised an eyebrow, only yesterday she had been whining that he was never at home anymore. "why six?" He queried.

"For once just do as you're told Michael!" She snapped, turning away she found her cigarettes and lit one up. He would not draw her into an argument today. Shrugging he dropped his head onto the table and shut his eyes, he had only got in two hours ago and now he was being kicked out.

"Go get ready." She gave him a pat on the back. "I'll drop you off at your friend's house on my way out." She wasn't leaving anything to chance.

.

When she got home Frank was up, and in the garage, Nate was with him the pair of them busy under the hood of the car. She took her new dress and shoes into the house and after making them both a drink she started to get ready. Tonight was going to be perfect.

She was in the bath when she heard Michael arrive home and Frank tell him he had to stay in and watch Nate while they went out.

"Can't he watch himself?" Came the sullen reply.

Madeline shut her eyes waiting for the argument to start. But the was silence, or at least they were keeping their voices down. She came out of the bathroom a little later, to find Frank in their bedroom getting out his best suit. She took a quick look around the house worried by the silence.

"Where's Michael?" She asked.

"I sent him out to get popcorn and other crap for their night in." He started to strip off to go and have his bath.

"He's staying in?"

"Yeah, I've paid him twenty dollars and he just said yes."

Madeline decided not to question him any further. It was Christmas eve and they were going out. Plus, unlike the previous four years, the decorations were still hanging and undamaged and the was presents under the tree instead of in the pawn shop window.

They left the house with both boys sat in front of the TV, Michael had returned from wherever he had gone with a bag full of junk food and a stack of the latest videos, which he had then let Nate choose what they were going to watch.

The whole day and evening went so well Madeline started to think that for once she could have the type of Christmas she always dreamt about, the type of Christmas where the whole family got on together and nobody needed a visit to the emergency room. She would just have to find a way of keeping Michael and Frank in different parts of the house as much as possible and maybe it would work out.

At the end of the night Frank arranged for a taxi to take them back home. As they walked up the driveway Frank was already getting amorous, kissing her neck and she was falling against him giggling like a teenager. Inside all the lights were off, they crept through the house and looked into the boys rooms, both were fast asleep.

.

Michael had no intention of staying in and watching Nate. The kid was plenty old enough to look after himself. After all it was Christmas eve and he had a date, as soon as he was sure they were gone he was on his feet.

"Stay in, don't do anything stupid and I'll be back before Mom and Dad." He said going into his room to collect his coat.

"But you promised to stay in Mikey." Nate followed behind his big brother.

"Stop calling me Mikey, I'm not a little kid and when do promises mean anything in this house." He snapped, with his coat on he pushed passed Nate heading for the front door.

"You're going to ruin it all aren't you." Nate accused. "Things are going so well, Dad's being nice for once and you can't stand it."

Michael didn't bother replying just slammed the door even harder than normal on his way out.

.

Sulking at being left alone while everyone else went out celebrating, Nate sat down to watch Back to the future. As he watched the movie his eyes kept getting drawn to the Christmas tree and the presents lying underneath. As the credits rolled at the end of the film he got up and went to check on the labels trying to guess who had got what. Their Dad had been unusually generous this year, he must have had a streak of good luck recently. Eyeing up the different piles he noticed Michael had more in his pile than he had in his own. That was just plain wrong, his older brother was rarely in the house these days prefering his best friend Andre Watkins home to his own. That meant he got to keep their Mom company and deal with their Dad's moods all by himself. He deserved more presents than Mikey.

He toyed with the idea of hiding a couple of those labelled for his brother and if no one noticed he could keep them for himself. If anyone mentioned missing presents he could _find_ them no harm, no foul. He just needed to work out which ones to hide.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter seven,

The first time Michael threw the first punch.

Part 2

Nate sat in the dark peering out of the front window, it was two in the morning Michael had to be on his way home by now. His heart skipped a beat when he saw a taxi pull up outside, _damn_. He ran into his bedroom jumping under the sheets, '_please just come straight in and go to bed_.' He listened to his Mother giggling at something his Dad said and then his bedroom door opened with barely a creak. After the door shut he tried to block out other noises that came from his parents room. He wondered if it was at all possible for the night to get worse.

This was all Mikey's fault he told himself, if Michael had done as he was suppose to, he wouldn't be cowering in his bed waiting to be killed.

It must of been an hour later that he heard the sound of Michael sneaking in through the kitchen door. He listened to the stealthy footsteps creeping passed their parents room and then his brother's bedroom door closing. He couldn't wait any longer, trying to stay as quiet as he could he let himself into Michael's room.

"What the hell do you want?" Michael growled, he was getting into bed.

Nate shut the door and came over to the bed, he sniffed and tried to put on a brave face. Michael switched on the bed side light, staring at his brothers face. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"What did you do Nate?" Michael had his feet back on the floor and had hold of his brothers arm forcing him to stay still.

"I er, I." Nate stuttered

"For Christ sake spit it out." Michael hissed.

"I was looking at the Christmas presents and saw you had more than me." The words came out in a rush, then dried up, as Michael's eyes narrowed.

"And?" He prompted.

"And then I remembered when I was helping Dad with the car, the was something at the back of the garage covered in a sheet. And my old bike was broke, so I wondered if - you know he had got me a new bike."

Michael sighed. "So you went into the garage and took a look."

"Yeah." Nate smiled as he thought about uncovering the new push bike. Then the smile went away. He felt his arm jerked roughly.

"What did you do Nate?"

"I just wanted to have a proper look at it you know." He stopped again, now he was here facing his brother he really didn't want to tell him what he had done.

"Nate tell me what you did or, get out I'm tired."

Nate gulped, this was it. "I got it out, and then when I tried to put it back I had an accident- I er, I knocked into the shelves and a tin of paint thinner fell off." He shut his eyes remembering the scene. "All over the roof of the Charger."

"Shit." Michael breathed out the word, then he smiled barring his teeth. "Dad's gonna kill you boy." He drawled. He did a passable impression of their Father with the last four words.

"Please Mikey, sorry Mike, please you've got to help me." Nate begged.

Michael let go of Nate's arm and lay back in bed. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"I don't know." Nate almost wailed. "Think of something, please."

Michael took pity on his little brother. "How bad is it?" He asked accepting the fact he wasn't going to get any more sleep.

"Bad, I tried to wipe it off."

"You idiot, wipe it off as in spread it over the whole damn roof?" He was up now, putting his clothes back on. "Go get dressed. I'll help you but I'm not doing the whole thing myself and if he catches us I'm not taking the blame ok?"

Nate nodded he was grateful for any help he could get.

Michael led the way out to the garage, they took torches because he said they wouldn't be able to turn the main lights on in the garage in case either of their parents got up in the night. He whistled through his teeth at the damage to the paint work.

"You know Nate it might be better just to tell him and take the beating, you know get it over with quick."

"Can't you just paint over it?"

"Nope that's gonna make it worse." He sighed, wishing he could be anywhere else. " He'd notice straight away."

"Notice what?" Both boys froze. "I said notice what?" Frank had got up to go tiolet, and had seen the flickering lights in the garage. He had come out expecting to find thieves robbing the place, not his sons stood looking as guilty as all hell. "Answer me!" He barked, they jumped and then Michael turned pulling Nate round behind him.

"Nate found his main present." Michael replied, licking his lips nervously and eyeing the baseball bat his Father held. "He wanted to try it out. I said you'd notice."

He was lying, Frank knew it. He knew it because Michael always lied to him and Nate's eyes were as big as saucers and the kid was all but cowering behind his brother. He scanned the room trying to see what they had done. Then he saw it, saw the smeared paintwork, some of it down to the bare metal. He moved quicker than either boy thought possible and pulled Nate from behind Michael.

"Which one of you little shits did this? Did Mikey do it, for us making him stay in? Answer me boy."

Nate couldn't speak, he wanted to admit it was him, it had been an accident. The words were stuck in his throat. Next thing he knew Frank had changed his hold to the front of his pyjama's lifting him up on to the tips of his toes.

"Answer me, boy!"

"P-please Dad it was an accident." Nate stuttered.

Michael couldn't just stand there and watch knowing full well what was about to happen. He couldn't watch his stupid kid brother get the snot beaten out of him. He couldn't do it when Nate got bullied at school and he couldn't do it now. He took a step forward, but stopped at the warning glare his Father shot him.

"Leave him alone it was an accident we'll fix it." Michael took another step forward, raising his voice slightly.

"Oh you're gonna fix it alright." Frank sneered. "After I teach the pair of you to respect other people's property." He had dropped the bat now and pulled his fist back. He threw the punch intending to teach first Nate and then Michael a lesson they would never forget, when Nate seemed to suddenly disappear, Michael had pulled the kid free.

"Run!" The older boy shouted shoving the younger in the back to send him on his way.

Michael stood blocking his Father from following Nate back into the house. Frank took in the way the boy stood, he glanced at the hands curling into fists.

"So not satisfied with wrecking your Mom's Christmas and vandalizing my car, you think you're ready to take me on boy.?"

"It was an accident." Michael repeated Nate's words. "I'm not gonna let you hurt him." He didn't wait for a response, the was one thing he had learnt from his Father, you don't fight fair.

It was the last thing he expected, Michael stepped in fast and lashed out. It would of been a good punch against another teenager, it would of probably floored another fifteen year old. It knocked the air out of Frank's lungs but little else. Michael hit him again, knowing that he was probably dead anyway so he might as well continue.

It shocked Frank for a mere instant, the fact Michael would hit him at all was a very big surprise. Then he recovered and returned the favour. The boy wanted a fight he would give him one. For the first time Michael got a full powered blow from his Father. He went down, his head ringing and vision blurring, he went to curl into a protective ball seeing his Father's leg draw back.

"Frank! You stop that now." Madeline shrieked. From the floor Michael watched his Mother drag Frank backwards. "So help me." She continued, jerking her at husband's arm, pulling him towards the door. "I'll kill the lot of you, smother you all in your sleep." She caught Michael's eye. "You and Nate will sort out the car, and until you do you're both grounded and forget about opening any of your presents." She had Frank now out of the garage and towards the house. "And you will leave them alone, at least for today or I'll put the dinner and all of your booze down the garbage disposal. Now get indoors."

Michael stayed on the floor catching his breathe, his head hurt alot and he was going to have one hell of a black eye soon but it had felt good sticking up for his brother. However much of a pain he was most of the time.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter eight,

The first time falling in lust,

Michael was two months from his seventeenth birthday when he met the girl of his dreams, as far as he was concerned she was absolutely perfect. Kayla Baker was six months older than him and new to Miami, having moved with her Mother from Tallahassee. She had long ash blonde hair framing a pretty face with very dark brown eyes, she wore far too much make up and according to her Mother too few pieces of clothing. She had a love for trashy jewellery, flash cars and bad boys. She never asked about any of the bruises he sported, wasn't interested in talking about his feelings or her own, and definitely wanted nothing to do with his family. All of this was perfect for Michael because he didn't want to explain his family to her or how he always seemed to look like he had just had a fight and the last thing he ever wanted to do was have a meaningful conversation.

Neither of them was bothering to attend school. Michael had finally accepted that his Dad was probably right and he was useless and would never amount to anything. Kayla hadn't forgiven her parents for separating and was taking great delight in driving them both insane. She was failing school in her final year and didn't care.

So they would meet up in the morning then hang out all day together. Once Kayla's Mother went off to work they would go round to her house and spend most of the day watching tv and making out. In the evening she would wait down the street away from her house and he would turn up in a stolen car which they would then drive round until they were bored or ran out of fuel. Sometimes they would just hang out with his friends either on the beach or in one of the local parks.

He found himself spending more and more time with her, she encouraged him, unlike his Mother who criticized nearly everything he did. She told him he was wonderful and smart instead of lazy and useless which were his Father's favourite phrases. The was never any questions about where he got his money from, her only concern, that he had enough for whatever they were doing. She would praise his efforts when he turned up in a particularly nice car and agreed to anything he wanted to do, as long as it was fun. All his friends were jealous of him for having such a pretty girl clinging to his arm and hanging on his every word.

As much as she gave him, he returned, at a time when her parents were constantly arguing even though they were hundreds of miles apart. Michael was attentive and ready to do whatever she wanted. He told her how beautiful she was, which was something her Mother never did. He would see off any other guy who made a move on her, making her feel special and loved. Most of her friends had heard stories about him, he had a bad reputation in the neighbourhood. It gave her a sense of power, having this boy everyone was so frightened of willing to do anything she asked of him.

In the back of his mind he knew he was heading for a fall, but he didn't care. They had narrowly escaped when she had talked him into emptying a cash register in a grocery store while she distracted the cashier. Then the was the time she took a necklace off a display in a jewellery store and he had to hit the security guard on the way out. They had not gone back to that particular mall since. But after they did all these crazy things she would drag him into the back of whatever car he had stolen for their transport that night or into a nearby alley and they would have wild, frantic sex. Later on after watching her walk to her front door, he would dump the car and then force himself to go home. He would try and avoid his family as much as possible sneaking into his room once he was sure everyone was asleep then trying to get up and out without seeing anyone in the morning.

.

Alyssa Baker was not happy, she watched her daughter jump out of a Merecedes sports car and stagger up the drive way. She had first become worried a week ago when she found an expensive looking necklace in her daughter's room and quite a lot of new clothes that the girl should not be able to afford. She had then taken to waiting for her little girl to come home, hiding in the dark she would peer out of the window and each night watch as she came home in a different car. She had her own suspicions about what Kayla was getting up to and had spent all this particular evening on the phone with her ex-husband.

As Kayla tried to unlock the front door quietly Alyssa turned the lights to the living room on, and took in her daughter's appearance, especially the two large bruises on her neck and another just showing on the curve of her breast.

"I've been talking with your Father." She snapped, watching as Kayla slumped down onto the sofa frowning. "We've decided you should live with him for a while. You're moving back to Tallahassee tomorrow morning I've already packed your bags."

"The hell I am!" Had been the angry response.

"Well you're not staying here. It's either you move back with your Dad or you find someplace else to live."

The argument raged most of the night, but in the end Kayla travelled back to her old home town early the following morning.

.

Michael was hurt and confused when he discovered she had gone. He had thought she was different. After a day of him moping around Andre introduced him to his girlfriend's best friend Tanya. Tanya was more than happy to help him get over his heartless ex.

A week later Michael went back to school, Tanya was in a couple of his classes. When she told him she was going to the school's career day he went along to keep her company. While she was talking to an advisor he got talking to a recruiter for the Army. Not expecting much he took the aptitude test just to kill some time. He went home that evening with the parental consent form and a new interest in getting his High Scool Diploma.

Madeline was relieved, just recently she had begun to think that she might end up visiting her eldest son in prison before long. She hid the form from Frank and then faked his signature, leaving the completed form on Michael's dresser.

.

It was a couple of weeks later Madeline was in the kitchen when the phone rung, wiping her hands on a T towel she answered it.

"Hello?"

"Is Mike there?" A young female voice sniffed.

"Who is this?" She didn't recognize the voice, it definitely wasn't Tanya.

"My name is Kayla. Ma,am I need to speak to him. Do you know where he is?" Madeline could hear how upset this girl sounded.

"No." She lied, wondering what he had done to make this girl she had never heard off cry. "I'm his Mom, what's the matter dear?"

"Oh I need to talk to him, can you tell him I called, it's really important."

"Of course dear, let me get a pen. I can tell you're really upset he hasn't done something to you has he?"

"No- no it's not like that I have to tell him something I think he needs to know that's all."

Madeline took the girl's phone number but could get no more details out of her. Afterwards she sat down to think about what this girl had said and how she had sounded. Finally she screwed up the piece of paper and threw it away. Michael had a nice girlfriend, he was back in school and he had a purpose in his life. She had a suspicion if she passed on this girl's number all that would be ruinned.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter nine,

The first he saw her.

Part one,

_Michael sat upstairs in his loft, beside him was her H and K compact 45 with the silver slide. It was her favourite handgun. In his hands were the only photos he had of their time together. They were precious to him, against all the rules he had carried some of them with him all the time. When he couldn't be with her, when he had been ordered to cease all contact. He had always had these photos, and now because of what he had done he was going to be left with just the memories again._

_He had regretted it, as soon as he did it. He really had. The slap, he hit her with all his strength for the sake of the job. To keep up their cover. He had seen the shock and anger on her face, followed by fear. If he would do that in order to get Barry his ledger back, what was he willing to do to get his old life back. Now he had lost her, lost her trust and her respect._

_The photo in his hand now was filled with her smiling face. As he remembered taking the picture he idly traced a finger around her face, touching her lips then running a finger along the outline of her hair he could remember how he felt when he held her head in his hands and would then gently run his fingers through her hair moving the long tresses back off her face so he could plant kisses on her soft yielding lips._

_He continued to stare at the photo as he lent back in the old office chair, in his mind's eye he remembered the first time he had seen her, not the MI5 photo in her British Intelligence file. But the first time in saw her in person. The first time they kissed, the first time they had fallen onto each other in the heat of lust and then the first time they had truly made love. He remembered her face when she realized for the first time he had betrayed her, he could only imagine how she must of looked the first time he had left her, sneaked away like a coward in the middle of the night. There was so many first times he had experienced with Fiona and now he was frightened he may of ruined it all, the first time he had truly hit her was possibly the last time he would ever have a chance to lay a hand on her._

1997,

It had been three years since the disastrous final assignment with Larry Sizemore. The inquiry into their actions in that final year had almost ended both their careers. When he had stood before the panel of congressmen, and Military Intelligence officers and listened to the damning evidence to the damage they had done to American interests and the American life's that their actions had put in danger he had felt sick. At the end of it all Larry had wanted to murder the MI operative who had first reported on their activities. Michael had wanted to find the man and shake his hand.

Because of that inquiry he had been lucky to just get downgraded, he spent a year back at Langley at a desk. Before finally they deemed he had learnt his lesson and they gave him a heavily supervised field assignment. He was sent back to Russia, to St Petersburg. After that first job he was given a second in the same city but with a little more responsibility. He completed this mission and was rewarded with a months leave. He chose to stay in the city, he had always liked it there. It was then he had met Samantha and they had hit it off immediately, she didn't care about the fact he wouldn't tell her anything about his job or his life. They had fun, she never pushed him or challenged him. When she had suggested marriage at the end of that month he was happy to go along with it all, it would be fun.

It was while they were making their arrangements he received the call back to work. He had told her he had to go but he would come back as soon as possible. She had shrugged and told him she had a couple of jobs coming up anyway. They had gone to bed for the rest of the day, until it was time for his flight.

As he had sat on the flight to London Heathrow Airport, he read the documents that had been forwarded to him. He had a two month training assignment with British Intelligence to bring him up to speed with the Irish situation and to pick up any tips the British spies and the SAS operators back from Belfast were willing to pass on.

He found the first week frustrating in the extreme. They told him his Irish accent was terrible, he didn't talk, look or move correctly. He dressed in the wrong clothes, he frequently looked the wrong way first when crossing the road, he fumbled with the currency and in a fight the techniques he employed would betray him as military. Any one of those things he was told would be enough to get him killed within a week.

By the end of the second month, he was battered and bruised, but his temporary MI5 handler had deemed him ready as long as he took things slow. Allow plenty of time to assimilate himself into the community, the information they wanted him to gather was important to the US and the UK. He was told that this would be his first long term, deep cover mission. The first step was to get close to a minor member of the IRA called Fiona Glenanne. Through her he was to gain access to her brother and the inner circle of the Belfast charter.

Before he made the journey to the port at Liverpool to take the ferry across to Belfast, they arranged for him to spend a few hours with an IRA informer who was now living very quietly in a small village on the way between London and Liverpool. He came away from the meeting quiet and subdued, the ex informer had explained to him in graphic detail the risks he faced in such a closed community and then he had shown him some of the injuries he might suffer if he was discovered. Michael got the message, take things slow.

At first he stayed near the docks, people in the area were used to foreigners, if he mixed up the money, or nearly got hit stepping out into the road because he had looked the wrong way it went without comment. Finally he was told by his handler a bedsit had become available over a Fish and Chip shop, close to the pub used by Miss Fiona Glenanne.

He moved in a few days later under the watchful gaze of a gang of teenagers. That evening he went and got his dinner from the chip shop below, and then he headed into the local pub. He sat on his own nursing his pint of Guinness and when a group of men came round shaking a bucket asking for "Money for the Boys." He dropped in a five pound note. At closing time he left without having spoken to any one other than the barman. The barman had waited for him to leave, and then passed on everything he said to his boss, who in turn had taken the news upstairs to one of his private rooms.

Michael McBride of Kilkenny, was an unemployed labourer. The men in the upstairs room ran their own checks and discovered he was a part time car thief and had been a getaway driver for a couple of bank robberies over the water in England. With the ok given by the community leaders Michael found over the coming weeks he was accepted. But he had yet to see the elusive Fiona Glenanne.

He was becoming bored of the whole thing, a little voice in his head which sounded a lot like Larry told him to stop playing things so safe. It was time to make things happen, shake things up a little. He fought down the urge, he was beginning to like these people. Besides the last time he had listened to Larry over twenty people had died during the two days they were waiting for their extraction and half a Georgian village had been blown up.

When later on in that third week four young women had breezed into the pub shortly after eight pm he had sighed with relief. It was definitely her, long reddish brown hair hanging in soft ringlets about her face, large dangling ear rings not quite reaching her shoulders. She was dressed in similar clothes to the others in her group. Short slinky dresses made of very flimsy looking material and high heeled strappy shoes. The four of them were loud and cheery, flirting with the regular customers all of them were obviously well liked. Michael kept his distance but when they left the pub shortly after ten thirty he followed them.

He scowled when he saw them queuing to get into the local nightclub, he had to wait for a few more people to join the line before he checked his wallet to make sure he had enough for the entry fee and joined himself. He went through the metal detector and into the dark smoke filled club. Fighting his way through to the bar he paid for a beer and then started circling the place looking for his target.

From the balcony he spotted her on the dance floor. Much later on he realized this was the precise moment he fell for Fiona Glenanne. Her photo and the intelligence report had not prepared him for watching Fiona on that crowded dance floor.

He was used to watching women using their bodies to attract men, to dance and gyrate to get the attention of a man. Most did it just to get a drink and a bit of company and sometimes just to prove they could. Michael noticed that one of Fiona's friends was trying far too hard her movements overly sexual, her predatory gaze had already fixed on a couple of men wearing thick gold necklaces and dressed in designer suits. The two other friends were too self conscious, he barely gave them a second of his time.

Fiona though, when she danced she wasn't dancing to attract attention, she was dancing for herself. He could see it in her face, lost in music was a phrase meant for this woman. Michael couldn't take his eyes from her as her hair flowed about her face and neck, her earrings caught the light and sparkled drawing his attention to her lovely very kissable slender neck. He noticed the bangles on her wrists and for a moment he stared at the graceful movements of her arms and he imagined what they might feel like wrapped round his body, those hands, instead of caressing the air what they might do caressing him. He followed the line of her dress, a dress that showed her figure off to it's best advantage, and left most of her legs exposed, those smooth toned legs that had no problem balancing on the impossibly high heeled shoes.

He hadn't realized how long he had been staring until the music changed from the thumping beat of dance tracks to the soft, languid tracks for the slow dances. If he had been armed he would of shot the man that was slobbering over her shoulder and with hands that made their way down to her small toned ass. He shook his head, he had been away from Samantha for too long, that was all this was. He was a professional. He decided to leave, she was back from wherever she had been, he would see her another day and get an introduction. He walked out into the cold air, and started home. Besides she wasn't even his type, he told himself.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter ten,

The first time

Fiona Glenanne was furious, her eyes flashed dangerously as she followed her best friend Eileen O Connell into the ladies toilets at the Shamrock night club. They slammed through the door and joined the queue for the toilets. Fiona knocking back the last of her Southern comfort lemonade and lime, Eileen angrily tapping the ash from her cigarette onto the rest room floor.

"I'm not going with ya, Jamesy Cooke is a creep and I don't see what you're doing with his stupid asshole of a brother." Fiona shouted over the top of the thumping bass from the music outside.

"Aw Fi, he ain't that bad, and it's been three weeks now since Liam left me, c'mon girl be a friend." Three weeks earlier Eileen's steady boyfriend Liam had thrown her out of their rented house because he had discovered she had a one night stand on her last girls night out.

"I'm not going home with Jamesy so you can get your leg over with his big brother. I don't care how desperate you are. I have standards." Fiona snapped. They moved forward in the line.

"You're too picky Fi, that's why your as good as on the shelf." Eileen replied, bringing up a point that would have got any body else a bloody nose.

"I have standards Ellie and a bit of pride. I won't shag a man just cos your feeling lonely. I danced with him, he'll have to be happy with that, cos he ain't getting anything more off me." She wasn't ashamed of her high standards.

A stall had become empty and both went in together. When they came out they were no further along in their discussion. After washing their hands, they headed back out into the club. Eileen instantly flinging herself into the arms of Tony Cooke planting a long slobbering kiss on his lips.

Jamesy Cooke seeing the attention his brother was getting, grabbed hold of Fiona, his tongue forcing it's way down her throat and his hand making it's way up, under her dress. Almost gagging, Fiona fought him off grabbing his balls in one hand she squeezed tightly until he yelped and let go.

"Yer fucking bitch!" He pushed her away. Bringing his hand up to strike her, only stopping as he saw two of the club's bouncers moving forward.

"I'm going." Fiona told her friend, but Eileen was to busy with Tony to pay her any attention. Swearing under her breathe Fiona dug into her purse for her cloakroom ticket. Collecting her jacket she walked outside, the cool air making her stagger a little. If she hadn't been so drunk or in such a foul mood she would have gotten into one of the Taxi's waiting for fares outside. But instead she decided to walk home, a little danger and may be a fight was just what she needed to release a bit of tension. God help the first person who got in her way, they would soon learn a lesson they would never forget. She thought as she strolled off, full of alcohol fuelled confidence.

She had only been walking for five minutes when she heard a rush of feet and then a hand went over her mouth and she was pulled into a nearby alleyway.

"You think you can treat me like that yer bitch. Just cos your Sean Glenanne's sister." She lashed out, but the way he had hold of her, she couldn't get a solid blow. As she started to hyperventilate realizing what was about to happen, then she became aware of another person entering the alley way.

"Whatcha doin?" It was a male voice, thick with drink.

"Fuck off." Jamesy shouted back, his hand over Fiona's mouth stopping her calling for help.

"Let her go!" The voice ordered.

She managed to stamp on her attacker's foot with her stiletto heeled shoe. "Help!" She gasped out. She was suddenly free of the weight that had pinned her to the wall. She turned, her arms wrapped round her body, her eyes wide with fright at what had nearly happened. But the fear was fast being overtaken by excitement at the fight taking place before her.

It was brutal, neither man having any particular skill, punches, kicks, bear hugs and head butts were all being used. When Jamesy finally went down to a heavy blow to the side of his head, Fiona pushed herself off from the wall and pulled her rescuer away from where he was landing kick after kick into the fallen man's side.

"Enough now, he's learnt his lesson come away now." She dragged him out of the alley, feeling the strength of his bicep under her hand.

He allowed her to lead him back onto the main road where, under a street light she checked him for injuries, noticing the bruising already appearing around both of his deep blue eyes, he also had a split lip and there was a little dribble off blood coming from his hairline.

She had seen this man before, in her local pub. A newcomer, she couldn't remember his name. She remembered his face though, there was something about him that stuck in her mind. If it wasn't for the scars around his eye he would be a pretty boy, the type she had no time for. She liked a man to be a real man. This one was too quiet, that is until tonight. He had put his hands to her face now cradling it between his palms, she could feel the callouses on his work hardened hands, against her skin. She wanted those hands touching the rest of her body, she imagined them touching her.

"You all right, he didn't?" There was genuine concern in his voice, mirrored in his expression. Those blue eyes forced her to focus on his face, and those very kissable lips.

"No, no he didn't have time." She licked her lips as she ran her hand gently through his hair near where the blood was coming from, probing softly with her fingers trying to gauge the deepness of the cut.

He flinched away. "I'm fine, honest. Let's get you home."

She smiled at him, leaning into his body, arms snaking round his waist. "I'll show you the way." They walked along, leaning into each other, her arms around his waist, his arm draped around her shoulder. She snuggled in closer when she felt him taking in the scent of her hair.

As they reached her front door, her hand wormed it's way under his shirt and across his back. She pushed him back against the door, her other hand at the front of his jeans, rubbing his semi hard cock through the denim material. He groaned into her mouth,as they locked lips. Her tongue exploring his mouth, his hands wrapped in her hair pulling her in closer. She freed her hand from his back and finished untucking his shirt, then started to reach for his belt buckle. He dropped his hands from her hair and gently pushed her away, his breathing ragged.

"No, not now." He gasped out the words.

"You don't like me?" She was hurt, here she was offering herself to him, and he was rejecting her.

"Oh god no, please." He pulled her back close, kissing her on the forehead. "It's just -" He struggled with the right words. He shut his eyes, his hands now running up and down her arms. "When we, you know. I want – I want you to remember it." He put her at arms distance and looked her in the eyes. "tomorrow night, meet at eight in the pub. A proper date, let's see where things go. What do you say?"

She looked him over, biting her bottom lip. She wasn't used to this. A man turning down the chance of a quick roll in the hay. It was interesting, he was interesting. She slowly and gently brought her leg up between his legs, rubbing her thigh against his balls. All the while she watched his face, seeing the lust in his eyes being kept tightly under control.

"Fine." She agreed, letting her leg drop as his hands went slack. "Until tomorrow." She trailed a hand over his face as she unlocked her door, "Are you going to tell me your name boy?"

"Mike, Michael McBride." He leant on one arm against the door frame.

"See you tomorrow Michael." She shut the door gently. Leaning back against the wood, she would dream tonight about strong calloused hands and deep blue eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

The first time, first date.

.

Fiona walked out of her front door and straight into Michael McBride's chest. He was standing in almost the exact same spot that she left him the night before. He grinned at her surprise. "Hi." He lent one shoulder against the wall, his hand coming up to gently move her hair away from her face. His eyes scanning her features, checking out the bruised lip from the night before. "You ok?"

She pushed him back with a hand to his chest, she hadn't realized how tall he was, she looked up at his face, the split lip and the bruises around his eyes not taking away from his appearance. "Hi yourself, I thought we were meeting at the pub." She glanced at her watch. "In fifteen minutes."

"I thought we'd forgo the local, and get the bus into the city." He moved back and she caught hold of his arm.

"So you thought you'd just hi jack me, coming out of my front door?" She allowed him to lead the way.

"The bus stop's this way, I'm saving you a walk." He pointed out.

"So where are we going?" She asked.

"There's a funfair, I thought we'd start there, and see where we end up." He held his hand out to stop the bus, while she went to find a seat he paid the driver. Catching up to her, he slid into the seat next to her his arm across her shoulders.

When he had contacted his handler early in the morning he had been warned, she would be at her most suspicious now. He must do nothing to make her think he was anything other than a sometime car thief and getaway driver. Presently unemployed and not particularly interested in Irish politics. He was to let her draw him in.

At the fairground, he let her choose the rides they went on. As he expected she picked the ones that went fast, or upside down or preferably both. After an hour they were walking amongst the stalls and side shows. She pulled him over to a rifle shoot, and challenged him to a contest. She won them a large yellow teddy bear, which she let him carry.

Afterwards they walked into the city centre and found a bar selling pub food. He scowled at the men who followed her with their eyes as she walked to the toilets. She elbowed him in the ribs when a bar maid spent too long counting his change into his hand. From one pub they moved onto another, until they realized last orders had been called and they had missed the last bus home.

Michael went through his pockets realizing he didn't have enough money left for a taxi. Fiona brought out her own money, she hadn't expected him to pay for everything, but he'd kept insisting. She had more than enough to pay for the journey home, but then she had another idea. It had been a rather carefree evening, no talk of guns or bombs, a refreshing change. She pushed him into a narrow side street and then up against a shop doorway.

"Do you want to know what really turns me on?" She whispered, leaning into him, standing on her tiptoes, her lips brushing against his.

"Mmm." He mumbled, one hand still gripping her prize bear. The other tangling in her hair pulling her head into a long kiss.

She broke away from him, her eyes sparkling her breath quickening. "How do you feel about getting us a fast car?" She asked.

He sighed, and looked down at her expectant expression. She liked him, now she was testing him. He caught hold of her and changed their positions so she was now against the security door. He pushed his knee between her legs spreading them apart. He lent over her, his dominant position at odds with the gentle way he nibbled her ear before breathing gently against her neck.

"How turned on?" He asked, his voice rough with lust. Keeping her pinned, the teddy bear now on forgotten dropped on the pavement, his hands began to gently rub up and down her arms, his thumbs brushing against the sides of her bra.

"Depends on how fast a car." She replied, reaching up she ran her nails through his scalp pulling his head back. While her lips found his neck.

He stretched his chin upwards giving her full access to his throat, feeling a mix of gentle kisses and little nips along his jaw. She released his head and wrapped her arms around his waist, and snuggled her head against his chest.

"Get me a Porsche, Michael. There is a dealership two streets away."

He rested his chin on her head. "I don't have my tools with me." He admitted, he felt her start to try and pull away. He tightened his hold on her arms. "I can get into any car, but a dealership, they'll be alarms." _Keep to your cover._ He reminded himself.

She turned her head up to stare at him, a wide smile on her face. "Oh I can get us in anywhere."

She wriggled out from under him, and picked up her bear brushing the fur straight. "Come on." She gave him no choice hooking the fingers of one hand into his waistband, pulling him a long in her wake.

They carried on down the narrow street, out onto another main road and then across to a large flashy luxury car dealership. She peered through the windows and pointed to a black 968 convertible.

"That one." She told him.

He smiled and lent back against the glass. "You said, you would get us in." He pointed out.

She gave him a mischievous grin. "Hold the bear."

He felt a little bit ridiculous standing watch holding a large fluffy yellow teddy bear, while she crouched down picking a lock.

"You know there's an alarm in there? Looks like its a key pad."

"I can see that Michael one thing at a time." She had the door open and was heading for the alarm. He wondered if he should risk his cover and help her. "There." She smirked. "All done." Her fingers ran along a row of keys hanging on hooks. "And all you're going to have to do is find the right key."

Michael dropped the bear into the car she had chosen, and came over to where she was picking the right key for him. He planted a gentle kiss on her collar bone and and whispered in her ear. "You've not finished. Are you going to open the front up for me to get the car out?"

She laughed and almost skipped over to the large glass doors, finding the clips she slid them open as he started the engine, pressing down hard on the accelerator revving the engine. As soon as she jumped in beside him he floored the car, rapidly going through the gears he took them out of the city.

She directed him onto narrow country lanes, unlit and lined with high stone walls. The car skidded on some of the corners due to the condition of the roads. He was very much aware of the fingers of her right hand gently stroking in his left thigh. "Faster Michael, stop playing games." She lent into him, her left hand resting on his stomach. The car felt like it dropped and shot forward even faster. Her hand was no longer on his thigh and he was finding it harder to concentrate.

"If you keep this up, we're not going to make it home." He gasped as the zip on his jeans slid down.

She flicked the button on his waistband undone, so her hand now had free access. "But you showed such self control last night."

The car swerved, tyres squealing as he brought it to a halt in a cloud of dust and grit. "That was last night." He growled. Pushing his seat as far back as it would go he turned towards her, pulling her into a kiss. His mouth hard against hers, his tongue pushing against her teeth demanding entry.

Not to be out done, Fiona climbed astride his lap, one hand now inside his boxers, she felt him grow in her hand and his breathing become more ragged.

"Bloody hell girl." He groaned, resting his chin on her shoulder. He lifted her top up, his fingers finding the fastener on her bra. He lowered his mouth and latched onto one breast his teeth grazing her nipple.

Her back arched and she sighed. One hand continued to stroke and play with his erection, while the other struggled with the zip on her own jeans.

"Out of the car." He opened the door and carried her out, dropping her onto the hood of the car. He helped her out of her jeans and almost ripped her knickers off. She pulled his jeans and boxers down and then wrapped her legs around his hips.

Both sighed as he pushed into her, slowly until all the way inside. They paused for a moment, both panting and then he began to move, his hips bucking into her slowly at first and then faster.

She dropped back onto the hood of the car, thoroughly spent. He lent over her a hand either side of her shoulders, he took one hand away to wipe his arm across his forehead. He looked down at her, her hair was fanned out framing her face which was flushed, her eyes shining. She ran her tongue over her lips, her eyes drinking in his features.

"We should get going."

He nodded, pulling up his boxers and jeans and then helping her back into her clothes. Back in the car he started the engine, and looked across at her. "Fancy going out tomorrow night?"

She lent her head back against the headrest enjoying the feeling of the night air blowing through her hair. "I think tomorrow we should spend the night in." She turned and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. "What do you say?"


	12. Chapter 12

**The first time she nearly got him killed.**

**.  
**

"Sean!" Fiona shrieked into the phone. "H-help me." She could barely talk through the sobs, her whole body shaking.

"Fi, Fiona!" Sean's concerned voice came through the handset. "Where are you?"

"Oh Jesus get here. Sean."

"Fiona!" He shouted into the phone, he was on his feet gesturing for his younger brother Colin to find the car keys. "For fucks sake girl you're scaring me where are you? And what's happened?"

"W-w-we're." He could hear a male voice in the background and then his sister let out a wail. It was a sound he had heard only once before.

"FIONA!" He shouted, beginning to panic himself. Colin stood wide eyed, the keys trailing in his hand, staring at his panic strickened brothers face.

"She's alright Mr Glenanne, it's Davy Keenan of the Red Bull Pub, just off the Falls. You need to get over here. It's your sister's fella."

Sean took a deep breath, his little sister was ok. "Colin go get the car started, Fi's gotta problem, sounds like that McBride fella's been hurt, contact Finnegan tell 'im we might be bringing him a customer." He went back to the phone. "We'll be with you soon." He hung up and rushed out of the flat and down the four flights of stairs.

…..

_Two weeks earlier a police constable had kissed his wife goodbye, shut his front door and gone out to his car. Sitting down he had turned on the engine and his foot had pushed down on the accelerator. The explosion brought people running out on to the street, parts of the car were spread all over the area. Massive media attention followed, these attacks were no longer common place. The fear was that this was the start of another war. _

_There was widespread condemnation, the police acted bringing all the usually suspects. Michael witnessed first hand the police rip through Fiona's home. She had obviously got some warning that the raid was about to happen, because not a single piece of Semtex, C4 or artillery was found anywhere.  
_

_For the next few days everybody in the local community was on edge. A reprisal was bound to come, it was just a matter of time. A splinter group of the IRA had claimed responsibility, but the police hadn't arrested anyone for the crime.  
_

_.  
_

It was the day of the Policeman's funeral, and news reporters were everywhere looking for a story. The activists from the policeman's own community were making threats. Fiona and Michael spent the day curled up together watching videos and relaxing. It was nine PM when the phone rang, it was the wife of one of her team of bank robbers. Crying into the phone, some men had come and dragged her husband away. She didn't want to call the police but she was terrified.

Michael had driven them over to the woman's home, reluctantly agreeing to wait in the car while Fiona went to find out what was happening.

"Let me come in with you." He had begged, his hand on her arm. "It could be a trap. You know you're a target."

She had given him an indulgent smile. "I'm a big girl Michael. I can look after myself. Just wait here."

As soon as she entered the house she knew Michael was right, it was a trap. Two men their faces hidden under balacalvas stood in the middle of the room, sawn off shot guns in their gloved hands. She turned and fled, slamming the door behind her, she came to an abrupt halt, just outside the front door. Another man, his shotgun aimed at Michael, the noise of the shot bringing a scream to her lips and her handgun to level and fire.

She couldn't wait, the men in the house were coming, she ripped the car door open and shoved Michael's limp body as far over as she could manage. Unable to reach the gear lever properly, or even steer safely because of how Michael lay she did the best she could to get them away. She spotted the Red Bull, the publican was a sympathiser. She had to risk leaving the car to go and hammer on the back door of the pub.

Davy Keenan, looked with horror at the woman at his door, fresh blood was dripping from her clothes, and was smeared on her face.

"H-help me." She grabbed his arm giving him no choice but to follow her. Police sirens could be heard in the distance.

"Jesus Christ!" He exclaimed, staring at the blood soaked body lying across the front seats of the bullet riddled car.

"Help me and I'll make it worth your while." She encouraged.

Muttering only half remembered prayers, he pulled the man's body from the car. "Take him inside. I'll move the car." Fiona's voice was dull now, he had to be dead.

"Leave it, Miss Glenanne me boy will get rid of it. Let's get yer man inside." He recognized her now.

They managed to get upstairs without anyone in the bar being the wiser. She had gone to phone her brothers for help while Davy and his wife Mary saw what they could do for Michael. While she tried to get the right words to come out of her mouth.

She looked back into the bedroom where Michael lay, the right side of his body from the waist up was coated in blood, including his head. He still hadn't moved. She had killed her boyfriend. This was why she didn't let anyone get close. She let out wail, sinking to her knees.

Davy took a risk, the noise would bring unwanted attention, he put a hand over her mouth and took the phone from her hand.

"She's alright Mr Glenanne, it's Davy Keenan of the Red Bull Pub, just off the Falls. You need to get over here. It's your sister's fella."

She pulled away from the man and scrabbled to her feet. Help was coming, she collected her thoughts and crept towards where Davy's wife was still trying to clear away the blood.

"It may not be as bad as it looks." The woman tried to sooth Fiona. "Look. See. Lots of little pellets all spread out, he was shot from a distance." She pulled away a bloody piece of gauze, away from his arm blood was still flowing freely.

Hugging herself Fiona nodded, calming down she could see the woman was right. If he had been shot from close up he would have been cut in two. She had been there, she should have known all that without being told. Cautiously she went to his side, and knelt beside the bed grasping his hand in hers.

"He's cold." She rubbed his hand between her own.

"It's shock. Help me cover him up, get something to raise his legs." As they covered him with blankets and put a couple of pillows under his legs. "Can you get him to a doctor? Those pellets have got to come out."

"Sean will know what to do." Fiona was back at Michael's side, pleased to see his eyes beginning to flicker.

…..

A week later and Michael was recovering fast. He had lost a lot of blood and had a couple of new scars, but what was worrying him was Fiona was being distant with him, trying to get him to stay inside, and rest. She had also been sleeping downstairs all week.

"Fi, what's up." He came up behind her as she was washing up their plates. He laid a gentle kiss on her neck.

"I nearly got you killed." She murmured, pulling away from him.

"I'm not dead." He answered her, returning his lips to a spot just behind her ear.

"The doctor had to dig twelve pellets out of your body, two from your thick skull." She turned round and put her hands on his chest pushing him away. "That was close enough. This, what we have, is too dangerous for you. Being with me makes you a target Michael." She took a deep breath. "I think you should leave."

He stood staring at her. "I don't." He gulped. "I don't think I should leave. This." He pointed at one of the still healing holes. "Wasn't your fault." He reached for her, touching her cheek with the palm of his hand. He felt her relax her face against his hand, her eyes closing.

He pulled her into his arms holding her tight against his chest, his chin resting on her head. "Is this what's been bothering you?"

She nodded, listening to his heartbeat, feeling the strength of his body under her arms. Breathing in the scent of the soap they were using.

"I'm a big boy Fi. I can look after myself." He gently chided.

She moved her head to look up at him. "That's not funny." Remembering she had said something similar to him not that long ago.

He kissed her forehead, then he lifted her on to her toes to kiss her lips. "Let's not talk about it any more."

This time she twisted away, and moved out of range of his hands. "No. we're going to talk first." He stared at her patiently. "If this, whatever it is we have, is going to work, you're going to have to start carrying a gun and learn how to use one properly."

He smiled, a twitch of his lips. "Ok." He agreed.

"Ok? Is that it?" She asked.

He nodded stepping in close to her again. "I don't have a problem carrying a gun." He caught her up in his arms again. "Can we stop talking now. I'm feeling a lot better, if you couldn't guess."

"Fine, but tomorrow we take a drive out to the country and you practice shooting." She tried to get him to focus, but was failing. He was walking her backwards out of the kitchen.

"Tomorrow. A good idea." He wasn't really listening to her. They were in the lounge and the sofa was just a step or two away.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13,

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**The First Time, Michael learnt the cost of betrayal.**

It was 4 am and Fiona hadn't managed to get any sleep at all. It was too warm even with the windows wide open and only a sheet covering their naked bodies. Michael lay beside her, totally unaffected by the unseasonably warm weather, his skin cool to the touch.

It wasn't only the stifling heat that was stopping Fiona from sleeping. She had other things on her mind. Other terrible things, that if she didn't deal with soon would bring calamity down on everyone around her.

She turned onto her side, her head resting in her hand. She was studying the sleeping form of her lover, her confidante and the reason for her lack of sleep. He was laying on his back, the sheet only covering his lower body. She gently ran her fingertips over his exposed chest, feeling the rock hard muscles lying under smooth soft skin. Tracing an outline round a couple of the scars left by the shotgun pellet wounds from six months ago. The holes in his hide that led to her first doubts about Michael McBride.

The doctor who had repaired the damage had commented about other scars. Some from bullets and some from knives or other sharp implements. At the time she had been too worried about his recovery to ask him about it. The feelings of loss too raw, she had nearly lost him the same way she had lost Claire, as another bullet riddled corpse on a Belfast street.

Later on when she eventually asked about all his scars he had told her a tale of a robbery that had gone wrong and a day long siege during which he had managed to escape but was shot. He had other stories as well describing a variety of childhood accidents.

He was good at spinning a yarn, she thought it might be his honest expression and sparkling eyes. Or maybe the slow charming smile which curved his lips and made the corners of his eyes crinkle. She lay her hand flat over his deceiving heart. Feeling the slow even beat of a man at peace with the world. Had she really been so easy to fool.

Or maybe it was to do with the way he could distract her to such a degree she accepted what he told her as the truth. And he was very good at being distracting, especially when she had been supposedly teaching him how to shoot. Looking back, his quick study skill with a handgun and with a rifle should have raised a red flag.

But things had started to move fast for her, he was no longer just a pretty face with a great body. He had burrowed his way into her heart, set up little nest in her soul. They shared long lust filled stares over reloading bullets. Hands lightly touching as they both reached for the gun cleaner. Prone on the ground, her hands wrapped round his, her voice in his ear, breathing in his scent. Her body laid tight against his as she explained the fine art of using a sniper rifle.

Then there was the way he lent over her shoulder watching her every move, as she showed off her bomb making skills. His body pressed lightly into hers, his breath tickling her neck, or his teeth delicately nibbling on her ear as she worked. Later, as they stood watching a deserted factory erupt in flames. She could have sworn she could feel a spark of electricity passing between them, the intensity of his gaze telling her he shared her love for all things that went boom.

As she looked at him now, she wondered how much of it all had just been a game to him. One of his hands moved in his sleep, his long supple fingers interlacing with her own over his heart. A sigh escaping his mouth, as he turned on to his side to face her.

She stared at his mouth, his gorgeous very kissable mouth. She watched as his tongue flickered out wetting his lips. Her eyes focussed on that oh so clever tongue, that lying, deceitful so very supple tongue. She licked her own lips before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on his lower lip.

Even in his sleep he returned the kiss with the perfect amount of pressure, a highly trained professional. She wondered if he was even Irish, no more likely English. Working for either MI5 or the SAS. Her hand came free from his and stroked through his hair. A single tear escaped from her eye, rolling down her cheek onto the pillow.

She had thought nothing of it when her usual driver had been arrested. Dragged from his home in the early hours of the morning. These things happened from time to time. He had been working part time for a local gangster. It wasn't necessarily anything to do with her. Her contacts in the police told her it was to do with an old case, a bank robbery two years earlier. New evidence had come to light, nothing for her to worry about.

Under normal circumstances it would not have bothered her, but she had a big meeting coming up. Fund raisers from the States coming over, wanting to see what their money was being spent on. She needed a good reliable driver.

She remembered now with a horrified sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. How she had smiled when she had offered Michael the job. The warm glow in her heart as he took the first steps fully into her world. They were working together for the first time. She saw a bright future for them, together for years to come an unstoppable force.

That had been just over a month ago, then yesterday she had taken a call. The FBI had arrested one of the fund raisers and another was on the run. A shipment of arms, had been lost when the fishing boat they were aboard was stopped by the US Coast guard.

That wasn't all, two of their own weapons dumps had been discovered, British Army officials talking on the news about how the discovery of the weapons had dealt a hard blow to those who supported terrorism. As she sat and watched the report, everything fell in to place. Every little doubt she'd had over the months, added up together and she realized exactly how big a fool she had been.

This morning, while Michael had waited outside she had been in a meeting of the hierarchy, an investigation was to be started. The traitor was to be found. The IRA interrogators were getting ready to do their work, implements of torture unwrapped and laid out in secret locations. They were expecting to be kept quite busy. She left while they were still drawing up a list of suspects.

She couldn't help herself she lent in for another kiss, this one deeper her fingers scratching lightly down his back. His eyes opened, still unfocussed from sleep. She stroked his cheek, a vision flashed into her mind Michael's features broken and bloody. How he was going to look when the others realized the same things she had.

If she didn't act now, sooner or later she would see his broken body dropped in some public spot. He was a lying piece of scum, but she had loved him. She couldn't let him do any more harm to her people.

Before he woke up fully, she drew a knife from under her pillow, holding it close against her arm so he wouldn't see it. She blinked away a few more tears, cupping his cheek in one hand she placed a gentle kiss on his lips. She changed the hold on the knife, and as he started to return the kiss. His body stiffened, his eyes went wide with overwhelming pain.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, as she slid the knife into his side. She withdrew the blade and threw it across the room. Trying to hold him still as he started to struggle, his breath coming in sharp rapid gasps. The bed becoming slick with his blood.

"Why?" He gasped, trying to get away from her, his struggles already becoming weaker as blood loss and shock incapacitated him.

"Shh." She whispered in his ear, a bloodstained hand coming to his cheek. "I'm not going to let you die. But you must be good, we don't have long."

She got to her feet noticing the colour had drained from his face. She slipped on her clothes quickly, and then left the room to return immediately with gauze and fresh bandages. She had prepared for this moment. Michael had fallen from the bed holding on to his side trying to crawl away.

"You don't have long." She flipped him on to his back, hiding her grief behind an all business approach. "I'm going to strap up the wound, and then I'm going to drive you across the city and drop you at an army barracks. Your own people will stitch you up. Don't come back here. If I'm on to you it won't be long until the others are too."

"Fi." His voice barely more than a whisper, his hand feebly grabbing at her.

She ignored him, wrapping the bandage tightly around the wound. She had done her best to miss his vital organs. she had even sterilized the blade and had wrapped it in a clean cloth under her pillow, to limit infection.

"Come on, we've got to get you downstairs." She pushed pyjama bottoms onto his legs and when she managed to get him to his feet she got them up and secured around his waist.

He could only move slowly bent over double, she supported him down stairs and into a car she had procured earlier in the evening.

On the drive across the city he tried to speak to her again, but she wouldn't listen. As they neared the army barracks she stopped the car and got out pulling him onto the driver's side. "Don't try and come back, whoever you are. I'm giving you this one chance, if they come after me or mine I'll out you to the council and you will be hunted to the ends of the earth."

He tried to answer her, but she slammed the door, and turned away disappearing into the night. The bandage around his stomach had turned crimson, his vision was fading. He pushed down on the clutch, fumbling he managed to select first gear and let the car crawl towards the soldiers on guard duty.

.

**A/N: I'd like to thank Amanda Hawthorn for her help with this chapter.**


	14. Chapter 14

**The first time: Michael realized Fiona was more than an asset. **

_**.**_

Waking up next to Fiona Glenanne was the thing he loved most about his present assignment. Being woken up by Fiona's soft lips and the delicate touch of her hands on his body just made things even better. He kept his eyes closed, allowing himself to revel in the moment.

He could feel the slightest movement of her hand as it lay over his heart. Her fingertips, so very gently brushing over his chest. He brought his own hand up to capture hers, lacing their fingers together.

What a beautiful way to start the day.

He rolled onto his side to face her, watching her expression from under hooded eyes. He peeked at her perfect breasts half hidden by a shapely arm. Licking his lips in anticipation of what was soon to follow, he noticed how she copied his actions before leaning in for a gentle kiss. He returned the pressure, wanting to lose himself completely in the moment.

In truth he wanted to seal the memory away in his mind. After his debrief the day before, where he identified the IRA ringleaders and their top torturers he had been informed they were going to be pulling him out in the next week.

It had surprised him how upset he had been at the thought of leaving. He had broken the cardinal rule, Fiona Glenanne was no longer just an asset. The intensity of his feelings frightened him. His job was his life, and it had been drilled in to him right from the first day of training you can't have feelings for an asset. You sweet talked them, bullied or extorted them, you may even sleep them if the job demands it. But once the mission was over, you move on to the next and you never looked back.

Her hand came up to his cheek, the soft skin of her palm against the rough stubble of his face. He thought he could see tears in her eyes. Concerned, he opened his own eyes for a better look. Time to wake up and make the most of the time they had left.

He had considered briefly asking her to come with him. But had instantly known it wouldn't work, she'd never turn her back on her family and the cause that ruled their lives. Let alone what his own people would have to say. Having a bomb making, terrorist for a girlfriend would finish his career. No it was best to make the most of what time they had and not dwell on what could never be.

He was aware of her leg lifting and wrapping over the top of his, drawing his hips into hers. Her arm the one closest to the bed snaking round his neck and cupping the back of his head pulling him in to deepen the kiss. His own body starting to respond, how he loved these lazy mornings in bed with Fiona.

Then came the pain, a gut wrenching, stabbing pain that ripped through his whole body. The horror of feeling his life blood flowing out of his body soaking them both. Of being held still unable to fight due to pain, blood loss and shock. The shock that this beautiful woman who had lain with for nine months was going to kill him.

…...

The sudden crackle of gunfire, and the strong smell of smoke assailing his nostrils jerked him out of his reverie. Falling back into the doorway he stood watching soldiers preparing to move in on a row of terraced houses. From further along the street a group of civilians were trying unsuccessfully to breach the army lines. For a brief moment he thought he was back in Serbia, instinctively he ducked down as a molotov cocktail rolled under a car causing it to explode.

Agonizing pain radiating from his still healing stab wound, clearing away his confusion. He knew where he was now. Standing in a shop doorway, watching armoured personnel carriers being moved into position to block the road where he had once lived with Fiona Glenanne.

He swore softly as two teams of armed men began the assault on their little house. He sucked on his lower lip, it wasn't their little house. It was hers, and pretty soon by the look of it she was going to be dragged out of it dead or alive.

He caught sight of her silhouette at an upstairs window as another molotov cocktail came flying out at the approaching soldiers causing them to scatter and then regroup. He could see that the situation was about to descend into a bloodbath.

Leaving the safety of the doorway, he made his way back to an empty house further along the street. Hidden in the backyard was a motorcycle he had stolen earlier that day, along with a bag full of smoke grenades he had made while watching the soldiers take up their positions.

Grunting in pain he knelt down next to the bag, and pulled out a black woollen balaclava. Slipping it over his head it effectively hid his features. What he was about to do, if he was captured, would lose him his job at the very least or cause an international incident at the worst. Next he filled the inside of his loosely done up jacket with the smoke grenades and dropped a Walther semi automatic into his jacket pocket.

Leaving the holdall behind, he sat on the motorbike and turned the key on the ignition then gritting his teeth he stamped down on the kick start. Pain shot through his body, forcing him to bend over the tank and grip the handle bars tightly. Breathing through the pain he dropped the bike into first gear and rode towards Fiona's house.

Pulling the first smoke grenade from his jacket he sent it out into the road ahead of him, then a second and a third. With the street clouded in smoke he picked up speed revving the bike engine he rode straight at the front door of Fiona's house.

"Fiona!" He shouted as McBride. "Fi! Get your fecking ass out here girl!" He finished the words by firing over the heads of the soldiers who were starting to close in.

"You!" Fiona called from the upstairs window. "Get away from here I'd rather go with them than you, you lying bastard!"

"This isn't game get on the fecking bike or I'm going to shoot you in the leg and drag you out." His gun was empty, he launched another smoke grenade. He knew the soldiers were under orders only to fire when they had a target, so as long as they didn't have a clear shot they were relatively safe.

"Damn it Michael." He felt her settle behind him. "This doesn't change anything." She fired over his shoulder. Her shots were on target fired directly at the enemy.

Not wanting to get into any more trouble than he was already in Michael pulled away fast and sent the bike weaving across the road and away. Forcing her to concentrate on staying on the pillion, rather than firing on the soldiers. Riding as fast as he could, he headed away from the city and away from the patrols.

He felt her hitting him in the back and yelling in his ear. "Stop now and let me off!"

He shook his head and went faster, forcing her to hang on. He was grateful she kept her arms away from his stitches. That was right up until he started to slow down on the unlit and badly repaired pot holed country lanes. Then she reached round and gripped him tightly across the stitches, the pain caused him to lose control of the bike completely sending them both off to the side as the bike skidded and slid down the lane without them.

Fiona was first back on her feet, a gun in her hand standing over him as he rolled on the ground groaning. "I told you to stay away." She spoke flatly.

He rolled onto his back with his knees up, arms across his stomach. He reached up with one hand and pulled the balaclava off. "Can we talk about this later?" He asked.

In the distance they could hear the sounds of sirens and the crack of gunfire. Then coming closer, the rumble of a diesel engined truck. Michael struggled to rise, while Fiona looked towards the approaching vehicle, and then back to Michael who was struggling to his feet.

"Please Fi, I came back for you." He tried to explain himself.

"You came back for me? What, am I meant to fall at your feet? Am I meant to be grateful? You caused all of this!" She spat the words at him. "And stop with the bloody act, you are not Michael McBride. You are... I don't know you." He went to answer her, but she held up and hand at him. "Correction I don't want to know you."

She looked like she was about to run off when an old flat bed truck came around the corner and her brother Colin jumped off the back. "Fiona! Thank god." He stopped confusion registering on his face. His eyes flickering from his sister to the boyfriend staggering to his feet clutching at his stomach and then back to his sister's right hand which held a revolver, a revolver he could have sworn he saw her pointing at McBride. "Fi?" He questioned.

Sean stuck his head out from the driver's side window. "The three of you get in the back now before I leave you to the patrols."

"You'd best come with us." Fiona grudgingly looked at her ex boyfriend. Her eyes widening at the spreading stain of blood across his shirt and pants. Dropping her gun into her coat pocket she ordered Colin to help get Michael on to the back of the truck.

….

Sean eventually brought the truck to a stop. Jumping out of the cab, he sent two of his brothers off ahead to scout the border. He already knew the patrols would have been increased, and the chances of driving into Southern Ireland were slim.

He made his way to the back of the vehicle and climbed inside. "Joe and Ryan are scouting ahead but I ..." He stopped, staring at McBride lying floor holding his stomach.

"What happened?" He lifted Michaels shirt noticing the burst stitches. Michael couldn't answer as he was hyperventilating and moaning in pain.

When nobody answered him he grabbed Fiona and pulled her outside. "Fiona! That didn't just happen what's been going on between you two?" Sean had hold of her by the shoulders shaking her.

"He didn't go because of a family emergency." Fiona answered. It was what she had told everybody who asked where her boyfriend had gone. His mother had been taken ill and he'd gone back to Kilkenny. Had been the lie she had spread.

"I stabbed him in the guts because he lied to me." She admitted speaking loud enough for Michael to hear her words. "He betrayed me in the worst possible way so I stabbed him and threw his worthless body out on to the streets."

"What?" Sean looked towards McBride, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"He cheated on me with some whore he met in Belfast when he was meant to be scouting a getaway route." She lied, to her own family. Something she had never done before meeting Michael McBride.

All of her brothers paused, the only sound was Michael's laboured breathing. "Do you want us to finish him off for you?" Colin asked, his fingers digging into Michael's shoulder stopping him from moving.

"NO!" Fiona answered quickly. "No, I'll look after him. You boys get over the border, he'll never make it." She looked back him lying helplessly, an overwhelming sense of sadness settled over her heart. "I'll take care of him and we'll catch up with you once things have calmed down."

"Are you sure?" Sean looked into her eyes. "Once a cheat.."

"I won't leave him." She wiped a hand over her eyes. "I can't leave him."

Sean nodded, later when McBride was fit enough they would all have a word with him about how they expected him to treat their sister. For now they needed to get across the border, Fiona and her unfaithful boyfriend would be safe enough alone hiding in a nearby sympathizers barn. Until he was well enough to travel.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen.

**The First Time: Fiona heard the name Michael Westen.**

"Jaysus McBride how much do you weigh?" Sean Glenanne complained as he half carried, half dragged Fiona's injured boyfriend along the dirt track which led to Seamus Blaine's farmhouse. "I mean ya look like a scrawny piece of shite."

Michael didn't answer, concentrating solely on putting one foot in front of the other. His mind reeling with the memory of Fiona lying to her family to keep him safe. Even as he struggled to stay conscious, his body racked with pain, he remembered her words.

_"I won't leave him. I can't leave him."_

Those eight little words had been burnt in to his soul. She still cared enough that she couldn't leave him wounded on the side of the road. He couldn't think of anybody else who would put his safety before their own.

Gasping, he opened his eyes wide as Sean picked him up, and threw him none to gently down on to a hard surface. Looking around he realized he was in a kitchen, he could smell rabbit stew boiling away in a pot on the stove. He gagged, and struggled as he felt strong hands gripping his shoulders while other hands were ripping at his shirt, and undoing his blood stained jeans.

"Connor's on his way Mr Glenanne." Michael barely understood the words. The soft Southern Irish accent so thick it sounded strange to his ears.

"Don't you worry McBride, Connor is a great vet." Seans face leered down at him.

"Vet?" Michael gasped. Trying to curl up in a ball.

"That's right a vet, he'll have you stitched up in no time." Sean turned to his sister. "You sure you want to forgive this pile o shite? Connor's doing a good deal on castrations at the moment." He pushed down hard on Michael's shoulder stopping him from moving. "It'll teach him not to play around."

"Fi." Michael pleaded. But her expression was set like stone, green eyes blazing with spite.

"Let me think about it." She replied, turning she glanced out of the window a gun appearing in her hand. "There's a car on the lane."

"Lay still McBride." Sean let go of Michael's shoulder drawing his own revolver, and moving to stare out of the same window as his sister. "It's Connor." He put his gun back in his pocket. "I recognize that rust bucket he calls a car."

Moments later the kitchen door opened sending gust of cold air across Michael's bare torso. "Ok lads let's get this done I'm meant to be on my way to a calving." Came a loud cheery voice.

A large beefy man came over, and checked Michael's injury, tutting away at the sight of burst stitches, and signs of infection. "Da, can you help hold him down. Miss Glenanne, yer might want to go help me Ma watch the road while we get this done."

Michael looked over at her, desperate for her presence. "Please Fi, Fiona." He closed his eyes when she turned away leaving him to the tender mercies of her brother, and the local vet.

"Ok fella I'm gonna have to knock you out to clean your wound, and stitch it back up." Connor held up a large thick needle, the type more usually used on cattle not humans. Michael's eyes went wide.

"Mary mother of god keep that thing away from me!" He yelped even in agony, and barely controlling a panic attack Michael maintained his cover.

"Oh keep still man, it's a little dose of ketamine you won't know a thing about what comes next."

()

That was the last Michael knew until he woke up, groaning at how sore his stomach felt Michael carefully lifted up the sheet, and blanket that covered his lower body. His torso was wrapped in clean bandages, his lower body was dressed in old blue and white striped pyjama bottoms. He let a sigh escape his lips, he appeared to be intact. Sean hadn't carried out his threat.

"So you're awake. Finally."

He looked across the room as Fiona came through the door, his eyes drifted to the gun in her right hand, and the look of steel in her eyes.

"Thank you, for not leaving me. It means a.." He stopped talking as she reached the bedside and placed the muzzle of her gun over the tip of his nose.

"You can stop with the fake accent. Who are you?" Fiona demanded, cocking back the hammer to make her point.

"Fi, if you remove.. Owww!" The last came as she removed the gun from his nose to smack him none to gently with the barrel against the side of his head.

"Who are you?" She asked again.

His training insisted that he maintain the lie, keep to the story come what may. "My name is Michael." He answered.

"Stop playing games. Your real name, you owe me that much."

Her words came unbidden._ "I won't leave him. I can't leave him."_ He closed his eyes, he owed her a little piece of the truth.

"Westen, Michael Westen." He admitted.

"Westen." She spat the name out as if it was poison. "And who do you work for Michael Westen?"

He looked into her eyes, his gaze drifting to her lips, and then her neck and the little place behind her ear which he loved to kiss. "I can't tell you that. You don't need to know." He murmured. He hadn't realized how much he had missed her until now. He wanted her there beside him in bed, her warm body snuggled against him.

She returned his gaze, but not for long. Her eyes fixated on his mouth, especially that full bottom lip. "You raised bloody hell, got good men arrested, and locked up. You've driven me from my home. I'll decide what I need to know."

It was spiteful but she didn't care he was annoying, and he needed to learn he wasn't as good as he obviously thought he was. She dropped the gun onto the bedside table and lent forward, her hand gently but firmly pressing down on his abs just above the injury.

He sucked in a breath, and went grey. Panting in pain, he grabbed her hand squeezing it until she yelped. When he let go, she whacked him hard around the head making his ear ring. "Answer me!" she snapped nursing her hand.

"I told you. You don't need to know." He gritted the words from behind clenched teeth.

She looked him up and down. "Fine." She replied, turning towards the door. "I'll just go home, and start spreading the word how Michael _Westen_ helped me, and me brothers escape, and how grateful we all are."

She waited as he thought this through. "FBI." He answered with his own accent.

"You're a yank?" She didn't believe it. "And what do the FBI want with us?"

"I was being pulled out when you did this. It's over." He was confused he wasn't used to dealing with the emotions that were flowing through him. He was explaining himself to an asset, and feeling the need to apologize. This was beyond wrong, Larry would have... He stopped himself. Larry would have killed her as soon as he realized 'his kid' was making an connection.

Fiona watched as Michael struggled with himself he looked so young laying there. Young, and stupid. She didn't know why but she lent forward again, this time placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

He looked at her wide eyed. "What was that for?" He asked.

"For saving my life. I would have managed on my own, but thank you. Now do you think you're up to a ride."

"Ride?" He had forgotten how complicated his life got when Fiona was involved.

"Seamus is taking a flock of sheep to market. We'll be hiding amongst them, and sneak out at the market."

"Sheep?"

"The fluffy things that were in the fields we passed last night."

"I know what a sheep is, but won't they check the lorry?"

"No because the local constabulary are going to getting a call that I've been seen ten miles away. They'll all be heading over that way."

Well it wasn't the strangest way he had fled a country, still it was right up there with sneaking passed goat herders armed with Kalashnikovs in Iran, and leaving a small Serbian town in a coffin.

She picked up a set of clothes off the end of the bed, and threw them at him. "Get dressed, Seamus is waiting for us."

()

Two hours later, after a nightmare journey in the back of a livestock lorry, filled with dirty, highly strung sheep. Michael was barely capable of standing up, Fiona helped him over to a table in a pub next to the livestock market.

"Stay here, I'm going to find us somewhere to stay." She placed a pint of Guinness in front of him, wrapping his hand around the glass. "Don't pass out."

He caught hold of her hand. "Why are you doing this? I mean you're safe now. Why are you helping me?"

She put her hand over his, a soft look in her eyes. Leaning forward so only he could hear her words. "Oh I'm not done with you yet Michael Westen."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Fifteen.

**The First Time: A Civilian Job.** **(Part one.) **

**A/N, Warning: Ok this chapter follows on from the last one, it contains a scene involving a seriously injured youth. It also contains a scene where Michael and Fiona 'reconnect.'**

**()()()**

_Fiona was as good as her word, she found them somewhere safe to stay. It wasn't much, a one bedroom flat on the tenth floor of a block of flats in the middle of a slum housing estate close to Dublin city centre. It was the type of place where nobody questioned who you were, or where you came from. Where an American spy, and a IRA terrorist could rest up, and lick their wounds both physical, and emotional in relative peace._

_Three weeks passed with them both stuck in an uneasy truce. They spent the days stepping warily around each other, and nights with her in the bedroom, and him on the couch. Once, he sneaked away in the middle of the night. He made it as far as the ground floor before turning back round. He tried to justify staying as a tactical decision. If he stayed, and regained her trust he might be able to learn more about the terrorist group's Southern Ireland contacts. _

_()_

_As the weeks dragged on Fiona was becoming bored, and picky. The flat was small, and they only had the minimal furniture that had come with the property. Wherever she went, whatever she was doing he was there, and for some reason she couldn't take her eyes off him. _

_He sat on the couch, reading an old newspaper, his hair spiky and damp from the shower. As she watched him all she could think about was how she should have left him bleeding on the roadside, or in the small market town after their escape from the North. Instead she had brought him along, and tended to his wound. _

_She told herself she was doing it so she could make sure he couldn't betray any more of her comrades. That once he was fully recovered she would personally escort him to the ferry terminal, and send him on his way. _

_Realizing he was being watched Michael lifted his head, and glanced over at her, puzzled by the look of anger on her face. With a huff she turned away, she really, really wanted to go out, and find something to blow up._

**()()()**

Michael woke up, he lay awkwardly on the couch which served as his bed. Outside he could hear male voices shouting, accompanied by the shriek of drunken women, and doors slamming. Just an ordinary night in the building he was calling home. He sat up and looked across to the bedroom door. She was in there, Fiona Glenanne. The black hearted siren who seemed to being taking great delight in driving him insane. He had been dreaming about her again. If was as if he could still smell the scent of her freshly washed hair, and feel the warmth of her breath on his neck.

He went into the kitchen for a glass of water. The noises from next door were getting louder, he glanced at the clock above the electric heater, it was four am. He couldn't stop himself taking another look at the bedroom door.

She seemed to get her kicks these days by tormenting him, odd little touches of her fingers sending electric shocks across his skin when she passed by, or more blatantly when she followed him into their tiny kitchen, and just had to squeeze passed him, brushing her tight little ass across the front of his jeans.

He knew she was doing it deliberately, he could see it in the sparkle in her eyes. Also because when she had driven him to the point where he was ready to jump up, and pin her to the wall. She would flash him an evil little grin that dared him to try it.

A loud wailing cry, different from all the other sounds had him reaching for his clothes. "_What the hell?_" He muttered.

"**Ma! I want me Ma!"** Came a pitiful howl, loud enough to be heard clearly through the wall.

"_Fiona_." Michael hissed, as he knocked lightly on the bedroom door. How could she sleep through all the noise, the crying was now being accompanied by the raised voices of adults arguing. Risking the wrath of Fiona he opened the door, and looked inside. She was gone. She had managed to sneak passed him while he slept.

Back in the kitchen he collected a large, and very sharp carving knife from one of the drawers before leaving to check on the neighbours. The front door was open, the sight that greeted his eyes was one of bloody chaos. A child, he looked to be barely into his teens lay on a couch with tears streaming down his cheeks, and snot bubbling out of his nose as he alternated between howling, and crying out for his mother.

Michael recognized the back of Fiona's head as she knelt at the boy's side trying to stem the flow of blood coming from his leg. Next to her, another woman held the boy's hand muttering words of comfort into his ear as she tried to calm him down. Two younger girls with the same hair colour and features as the boy stood at the back of the couch, their expressions full of anguish.

The sound of male voices raised in anger drew Michael's attention away from the women, to where a small group of men stood in a corner arguing in hushed tones. Stopping only when Fiona shouted at them.

"**Shut up the lot of you!**"

"What's this?" Michael asked gruffly, framed in the doorway the carving knife gripped loosely in his hand.

The whole room turned to face him. The only sound for nearly a minute was the gulping sobs of the injured youth.

Fiona glanced at him as she continued desperately trying to stop the blood loss. "Don't just stand there, Michael come help me." She ordered.

Aware that every eye was on him, Michael stepped further into the room to take a closer look, his mouth tightened as he saw the damage done, he had seen the same injury before in Belfast. He had stood by impassively while others had carried out the rough justice of the Irish gangs. This child had been kneecapped. Held down while his leg was blasted by a shotgun. It was usually the punishment for a crime against the community, but he had never known it to be done to a child.

"Who did it?" He asked, quietly staring at the others in the room with hard eyes.

"I-I Stttole a car. Me Da had be-beat me little brother, an' he needed to get ter hospital." The boy wept.

"Michael, I can't stop the bleeding." Fiona looked up at him her eyes begging for help.

He dropped down next to Fiona and gently took the cloth from her hands. He took a look at the bloody mess. She was right there was nothing they could do, he was definitely going to lose his leg below the knee, but if he didn't get to hospital soon he was going to bleed to death first. Wrapping the wound tightly Michael lent over the boy.

"You're going to have to be brave son." He spoke softly into the boy's ear. "Yer going to tell the police it was a hunting accident. You were out poaching an'." He glanced at the men huddled in the corner. "One of you'll have to go with him. You're going to have to take the blame for the shot. It was an accident, he got in the way of your gun, and a deer."

Blue eyes as cold as ice pierced the group until one of them nodded, and coughed. "I'll do it."

Michael nodded back. Then turned to the women. "Did the other boy get to hospital with his Mother?"

"Yessir." One of the younger women nodded. "Kevin got him there before..." She sniffed. "Our Mum doesn't know about him yet."

"Go see her tell her what happened, and make sure she knows what to say. Make sure she tells anyone who asks that her boy had gone shooting with." He looked back at the man.

"That's our Uncle Davey." She identified the man.

"Good. Now get going the lot of ya, while me and Fi get the man who did it." His expression was grim, as he wondered what sort of men would deliberately cripple a child over a car.

"I don't think there's anything you can do Mister McBride." 'Uncle Davey' muttered as he tried to pick up his still sobbing nephew to take him to the nearest hospital. "It was the Devlin brothers, they run this part of the city."

"Oh there's lots of things we can do. Isn't there Fiona?" He replied coldly.

She nodded slowly, her eyes taking in the very dangerous man stood before her. It was possible to feel the anger coming off him in waves, and god help her, she loved him for it.

They waited until the boy Kevin, and his uncle Davey left for the nearest hospital before returning to their own home. As soon as they were alone she grabbed him, throwing him back against the wall.

"What are you up to?" She demanded.

He raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the bony hip she was pushing into his groin. "I don't like bullies, Fi. If he survives, that kid'll be on crutches for the rest of his life."

She wanted to believe him, she stared up into his clear blue eyes trying to read his mind. Every thing he had done up to now had been an act, how could she trust him.

"Why do you _really_ want to help a family who mean nothing to you? I mean they're just ordinary people, and the Devlins are small time thugs."

He sighed, and tried to find a slightly more comfortable position against the wall. "Don't _you_ want me to help that boy?"

As he tried to wriggle out of her grasp, Fiona pushed the flat of her hand against his chest. "Let's pretend for a moment that I believe you. What are we going to do about the Devlins?"

She looked up at him, leaning into his body. Feeling the pounding of his heart under her hand, and the heat radiating off him through his t shirt. A tremor ran up her spine as he lowered his head, his breath caressing her ear.

"I think a new gang is coming to this part of Dublin, and the Devlin Brothers are going to be encouraged to move on." His hands had settled on her waist, fingers gently stroking her back.

"And what is this new gang going to do, to drive them off?" She gasped as he moved his hands lower.

"I thought you might like to create a little mayhem." All the tension that had been building up in the last month, was causing his voice to become husky.

"Mmm." Fiona hummed as she rested against him, breathing in his scent, remembering all the things she had loved about Michael McBride. She could feel his growing excitement pushing back against her hip. Her body responding in kind, as her hands left his chest, and began to roam of their own accord.

"Fi?" He groaned into her ear.

She looked up at him, her eyes shining, and her face flushed. She felt him suck in a breath as she flicked the top button of his jeans undone.

"Shut up Michael." She growled back, pushing his jeans down on his hips her hands gliding up his body, moving carefully over the pink skin of the barely healed wound, and then her touch becoming firmer as she lifted his t shirt up, and over his head.

Michael flung his head back as she placed tiny kisses over his chest, and up onto his neck. Her hands trailing from the soft hair at the back of his neck along his chest, and downwards following the lines of his well defined muscles, eventually reaching where he wanted them most.

Taking deep gasping breaths Michael sent his hands up to her hair tangling the long locks in his fingers bringing his head down he covered her mouth with his own, his tongue running enticingly along her bottom lip begging entry, and she gave it willingly groaning into his mouth. Her left leg rose up, to hook over his hip, crushing against him. As her arms locked around his neck.

He took the hint, and lifted her up, both hands around her ass he walked towards the bedroom, kicking open the door. He deposited her down on the bed dropping on to his knees between her legs. He stared at her through lust filled eyes, his tongue running along his lips. She looked good enough to eat.

Fiona stared back, her hands going to the buttons on her blouse. Knowing he was watching her every move, she slowly started to undo the buttons. As the blouse fell open his gaze dropped to her exposed breasts.

"Beautiful." He muttered as he fell forward onto her, smothering her face in tiny, feather like kisses. All the while his hands were exploring the flesh he had been dreaming about for what seemed like forever.

Fiona arched up into his touch, a long deep sigh escaping her parted lips. She needed this, the horror of earlier and the tension of the last few months demanded a release. For a moment they stared at each other hungrily, then slowly he dipped his head down leaving her face as his tongue delved lower, causing her fingers to scratch through his hair and onto his shoulders.

"Mi-Mi-Mi." She chanted as his hands jerked, and pulled at her clothing until her jeans, and panties were lying on the floor beside his own.

"Shhh." He growled, before returning to his worship of her body. Soon she was flying over the edge, her body shaking with ecstasy he relentlessly explored every inch of her.

Crying out , she dragged his head up until he was staring back at her. "My turn."

And with an aggression he hadn't realized how much he had missed, she threw him on to his back and straddled his hips rocking gently back and forth, his hips bucking as he tried to position her body to give him what he wanted so desperately.

"Soon." She purred, stroking her hands down his chest.

"Now." He pouted and tried to move her again.

Then with a moan of pure delight he felt her hand close about him, her weight shifting, and then he was in heaven. His mind blanked as she closed about him, her walls already pulsing with desire. Soon they were moving in perfect harmony. He brought her head down to his, his lips smothering her in tiny gentle kisses until he settled on her mouth pulling her into a deep, deep kiss. They came together sweat covered panting bodies writhing in ultimate pleasure.

He lay still, as his breathing began to return to normal, and his head cleared enough for him to think. She was still on top of him, weighing little more than a feather. She smiled down, supporting herself on arms crossed over on his chest, her long tangled air hanging down like a curtain around them.

"So, when do we kill the Devlins?" She asked, kissing his forehead, and then his nose.

"We don't. We drive them out of Dublin. I can't be involved in a murder." He replied, lifting her hair on one side to nuzzle on her neck.

"I want to hurt them." She growled, moving her head so he had to look at her.

"Oh there'll be plenty of pain involved. But neither one of us want the police around here investigating a murder." His fingers were walking along her sides, his thumbs brushing against her breasts.

She regarded him for a moment, then came to a decision. "Ok but I get to shoot them."

"Shoot them yes. But nowhere fatal, and we need help. At least one other, do you know anybody who will work with us?"

"With me, yes, But with a Yank spy?" She shook her head, a teasing smile on her face. She gave a yelp when he suddenly flipped her onto her back so he was now looming over her.

"You don't have to tell them that." He told her in a sing song Irish accent. "Will they work with Michael McBride?" He nipped at her bottom lip.

"Maybe. But only if he's a good boy." She replied, hooking her legs around his waist.

He lunged into her. "Oh I can be a _very_ good boy." Barring his teeth in a shark like smile. "When I want to be."

**Part two coming soon.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews and the PMs that you have sent. I'm sorry about the delay on updating this story, I really didn't intend for it to be so long in between postings. **

**Chapter Seventeen,**

**The First Time: A Civilian job. (Part two.)**

"I'm telling you, if you want that scum run out of town, this is the way to do it!" Michael came out of the bedroom buttoning his shirt. His eyes tracking Fiona's movements as she went to the lounge windows, dragging the curtains open to let natural light into the room.

"And I told _you_, we're doing this my way." Fiona answered angrily, going from the lounge in to the kitchen.

They had been having the same discussion ever since they had woken up. Michael had hoped their night of passion would have put them back on track. After all he had forgiven her for stabbing him, he accepted it as one of the risks of the job. But Fiona was still not prepared to trust him. He had told her his idea for getting rid of the Devlin brothers and she had instantly dismissed his plan.

"Fi! Fiona! You're not listening!" He followed her into the kitchen, catching hold of her arm.

"I'm not going to let you hurt innocent people!" Fiona spun round and shoved him away, the back of his head connecting with one of the wall cabinets in their kitchen.

"It's a good plan." He insisted, while trying to remain calm. "We hit a few of the businesses that are paying the Devlins protection money and they'll have no choice but to prepare for war. We can trick them..."

"NO! Those people who pay the Devlin's protection money aren't given a choice. They pay up or they get burnt out or beaten so badly they can't work. Think of something else, or we go with my plan." She jabbed a finger into the centre of his chest.

"So they get hurt a bit more, it's for their own good." He callously snapped back. "You're not looking at the big picture." He caught the small tightly curled fist that came at his jaw, closing his hand around her narrow wrist and holding it away from his body.

Just recently he had taken about all he could from the little Irish vixen standing before him. Yes he had lied to her, but she had stabbed him, threatened to shoot him, and let a country vet nearly butcher him. The least she could do was consider his plan for the Devlins.

"Do you even care about the people you use? That you might get them killed?" Her words caused him to draw in a sharp breath.

"And you think the answer is to shoot the Devlins and go on the run?" He replied.

"What do you care?" She jerked her wrist out of his grip, and tried to push passed him.

But Michael wasn't finished, as she tried to leave he caught hold of her pulling her in close to his body wrapping his arms about her waist, effectively pinning her arms to her sides. She struggled in his grip, feeling the strength in his taunt muscles as he tightened his hold.

"Let me go, before I make you regret..."

"If you shoot them." He ground the words out from behind clenched teeth, his mouth inches from her ear. "It will cause a massive police investigation, and my bosses will force me to leave, and you'll never see me again." The scent of her freshly washed hair, the sensation of her warm breath tickling his neck and the way her body moulded against him sent tremors coursing through his body. "Is that what you want? For me to go, and never come back?" He couldn't control the husky undertone creeping into his voice. He wondered what was happening to him, ever since they had come back to the apartment and reignited their relationship he couldn't keep his hands off her.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that it was exactly what she wanted. That it would suit her just fine if he was kicked out of Ireland and she never saw him again. But the words refused to come out, instead her body was responding to the comforting feel of his strong arms encircling her waist, and the way his deep blue eyes bored into her as if staring in to her very soul. For a moment it was as if time stood still.

With an almost predatory growl she stretched up against him, her lips capturing his mouth in a hard demanding kiss. She felt his hold on her arms slacken, and took advantage. Raising her hands up so she could run her fingers through his short hair her nails scraping across his scalp.

With a groan of both pleasure and pain he held her close, one hand snaking up under her t shirt firmly holding her in place while his other hand tangled in her hair forcing her head back. As she struggled in his grasp he began to lay kiss after kiss along her throat to her clavicle then following down the line of the low cut v necked top she wore.

Fighting to take back control she kicked out, her heels catching the back and sides of his knees causing them to buckle sending them both to the kitchen floor. Landing astride his hips she rocked against him, her hands reaching for his shirt yearning to touch the bare skin that lay beneath.

"So you want me to stay?" He gasped, as her fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

"I want you to stop being such an ass." She growled, pulling the shirt open, her hands gliding across his muscular chest.

Revelling in the sensation of her touch, Michael was unwilling to completely surrender. A sudden twist and he was on top, smiling down at her as he used a knee to tease her legs apart. "So _you _do want me to stay."

"I didn't say that." She panted as his fingers began to travel slowly under her t shirt and over her ribs until they reached the the laced edge of her bra.

"Sorry to interrupt. Do ya want me to comeback later?"

Fiona and Michael froze, her hands poised on his pants zipper. His hand under her top, cupping one of her breasts.

"After all, it was yourself that asked fer the meeting." The voice continued.

"What the hell?" Michael snarled jumping to his feet, his hand wrapping around the throat of the intruder forcing him out of the kitchen and away from Fiona.

"Michael this is my cousin, Ryan O'Keefe." Fiona gasped. She too was on her feet her hand gripping Michael's arm tightly trying to pull him off her cousin.

Michael came to a halt, his hand coming away from the other's throat. As he tried to calm the thumping of his heart. He studied the intruder seeing the family resemblance, no more than five feet five with a lean wiry build, copper brown hair and wide spaced blue-green eyes. This man with an annoying grin on his face was a masculine image of Fiona.

"Ryan this is Michael." She finished the introductions.

"Please to meet you _Mickey_ boy." The Irishman shook his hand almost crushing Michael's fingers in his grip.

"It's _Michael_." Michael corrected, there was no way he was going to become Mickey.

"Really boy? Just remember Fiona is my favourite cousin, and should be treated with a bit of respect especially by cocky young upstarts." Ryan leered, looking pointedly at Michael's open shirt and then Fiona's rumpled clothing.

Michael stepped forward, his face flushed with anger, his hands curling into fists. When Fiona effectively restrained him by hooking a finger through a belt hoop on his jeans.

"Leave it Michael, it's just Ryan's weird sense of humor."

Ryan's laughter sounded loud in the silence. "He's got a fire in him this one Fiona darlin'. Better than that last one, what was the idjits name?"

"Quinn. Quinn Donovan, and he wasn't an idiot." Fiona murmured, as she stroked Michael's cheek trying to coax him into relaxing. She tried changing the subject, as Michael continued to glare at O'Keefe with murder in his eyes. "We were discussing the best way to get rid of the Devlins." Fiona spoke to break the silence.

"_Discussing_? So that's what they're calling it nowadays is it?" O'Keefe snorted, staring with amusement at the two young faces before him. "Sorry. Go ahead then. Tell me the plan." He dropped down on to the couch.

"I-" Michael went to speak but was cut off as Fiona smacked him across the stomach.

"We're going to drive the Devlin brothers out of Dublin. _After_ making them wish they had never been born." Fiona answered her cousin's question.

"And how do you plan to that?" He asked.

Michael crossed his arms over his chest waiting to hear what Fiona had to say.

"I want to attack their businesses, the snooker hall, their pub. Maybe blow up their scrapyard." Her eyes lit up at the thought of a nice big explosion. "Make them think the wrath of god is about to descend on them."

"You think the rest of the Dublin underworld will sit back while you two start a war?" He snorted. "Fiona you're a lovely girl but you do have a bit of a reputation for overreacting. Dublin isn't Belfast, bombing the shit out of everybody who pisses you off won't be tolerated here"

Michael wrapped an arm around Fiona's shoulders, pulling her into his side. "What if we let them know if they stay out of our way we'll be willing to make a deal over the Devlin's territory." Michael put in, seeing away to work with Fiona's new plan. "After all we don't intend to become underworld bosses ourselves. Do we?" He glanced at Fiona.

She pursed her lips in thought. "Fine. We'd best get ready." She removed Michael's arm, and turned to face him. "We're going to hit the snooker hall tonight."

He knew the reason for the defiant look in her eyes. The snooker hall was a men only club, tonight she wanted to make sure the Devlins knew exactly who was coming after them. She was also making it clear she was going to be the one taking the lead.

He nodded, then lifted his gaze to her cousin who sat watching them. "So, O'Keefe you have access to some guns?"

Before the man could answer Fiona turned to face him. "And explosives, some Semtex or C4?" She added hopefully.

O'Keefe got to his feet. "Guns, yes no problem, but explosives?" He walked over catching hold of Fiona's shoulders. "Remember what I said girl. This isn't Belfast."

"We know that Ryan." She gave him a tight little smile, knocking his arms away.

"Fiona just wants to make a statement that's all." Michael's arms encircled her again, pressing a light kiss on the top of her head.

O'Keefe looked from one to the other shaking his head wondering how he was going to stop his cousin and her boyfriend destroying half of Dublin.

"As long as you're both clear. McBride, come help me collect the guns."

**()**

The Snooker hall was a long single storey building set back from the road, with a small car park in front. At eleven pm, most of the parking spaces were empty leaving plenty of room for the large Jaguar XJS that pulled up across the main entrance. Michael and O'Keefe walked up the three steep stone steps that led to the narrow entrance, pulling the heavy doors open they stood aside so that Fiona could walk passed them, and lead the way into a territory normally only seen by women when they came early in morning to do the cleaning.

She was dressed in four inch high stilettos, skin tight black pants and a plain cream blouse topped off with a three quarter length black wool coat. Her long hair was pulled back and tied in a high ponytail. The trio stood just inside the doors surveying the eight large snooker tables, and the long bar that ran the length of the room. It was late, only three of the tables were still in use, and apart from two men behind the bar, there was only four other paying customers.

"No women allowed." The older of the two barmen shouted out, drawing the attention of everybody in the room to the newcomers.

Fiona stepped further inside flanked by Michael and O'Keefe. As she walked she pulled on a pair of thin black leather gloves. "This place is closed." She announced in a loud clear voice.

The men flanking her brought out shotguns, from under their coats the barrels sawn off to give a greater spray of lead when fired. When nobody moved, Michael fired into one of the vacant tables turning it into kindling. O'Keefe covered the men at the bar, as Michael turned his shotgun towards another table.

The men who had only come in for a quiet game of Snooker and a drink packed up quickly, leaving by one of the side doors. Everybody knew who owned the club, nobody wanted to be involved in whatever was happening. Two minutes after Fiona had spoken they were alone apart from the two bar men and one other man. He now got to his feet, towering over everybody else in the room. Michael guessed he stood at least six foot six, and probably weighed well over two hundred pounds.

"Who the hell are you?" The man demanded, looking at each of the intruders in turn.

"Names aren't important." She answered. "But I have a message for the Devlins."

"Oh yeah."

"Yes. Michael be a sweetheart and give the man my message." She smiled sweetly.

While O'Keefe kept the men covered, Michael blasted each of the tables. By the time he had finished the floor was covered in broken pieces of wood and shredded table felt.

"Do you know who the Devlins are? Do you know what they'll do to you" The man threatened, his face red with anger. "You're all dead."

"Nonsense. Now the rest of my message, tell the Devlin brothers to get out of town." She reached into her coat pocket producing a road flare, pulling the cord to ignite it she held it in her hand and strode purposely around the room setting light to the heavy green velvet curtains that framed the windows, and finally the drink soaked carpet before the bar.

As O'Keefe led the way out, Michael covered their retreat. "You all heard the lady. This place is closed, for good."

**()**

Their next stop was a late night strip club, Fiona and O'Keefe looked on as Michael took on the two bouncers on the door. Barely a minute passed between the start of the altercation and both men being laid out on the wet pavement one unconscious, the other unable to stand with a broken leg. She couldn't help but smile back when he turned to her with a proud expression on his face as he straightened his smart three quarter length coat.

"The boy has some moves." O'Keefe commented dryly.

"Oh Michael has many hidden talents." Fiona replied. Thinking back to the brutal fight he had been involved in the first time they met. She briefly wondered how much of her rescue that night had been a set up.

"Fiona, stop gawking at ya fella. We've got work to do."

She looked up at O'Keefe who was holding the car door open for her to get out. She pushed the thoughts of his betrayal to the back of her mind. "Mind your own business Ryan." She snapped getting out of the car.

Inside the club they marched straight up to the office. Michael and O'Keefe using the sawn off shotguns to clear the way. While the two men watched the staff, Fiona placed a tin can full of thermite on top of the office safe and lit the fuse.

Five minutes later they were on their way out, two thousand Irish Punts better off. Throwing the money into the back of the car they drove onto their third target of the night. The large scrap metal yard on the outskirts of the city. The place the Devlins liked to take their victims, a desolate place where nobody would hear the screams of the tortured, and bodies could be disposed of amongst the twisted metal that came out of the crushing machinery.

Fiona looked at the large site filled with twisted metal, and stripped out cars awaiting their turn in the compactor. "I want something big." She announced. "Something that will really get their attention."

"You don't think wrecking two of their businesses, stealing the evenings take, and crippling two of their men is enough?" Michael asked.

"I'm sure little Kevin Dooley wouldn't think so. He lost that leg Michael. His mother came to see me while you were out collecting the guns."

"Fine." He opened the trunk of the car and brought out a box filled with sticks of dynamite. "Where do you want them?"

**()()()**

**Ok I'm sorry but I'm turning this into a three part story the next part is almost ready I won't keep you waiting another month for the next chapter.** **Promise.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen.**

**A/N: Sorry I forgot to thank Daisyday and Amanda Hawthorn for their input and reading through various parts of this story for me. Sorry gals you know I love you both. So here it is the third installment, as promised.  
**

**The First Time. A Civilian Client. (Part three.)**

Fiona stared down at the wooden box holding twelve sticks of dynamite, her eyes glowing as she thought about the devastating explosion she was about to cause. Then out of the corner of her eye she noticed the outline of something far more interesting laying at the back of the trunk, partially hidden, and wrapped in an old curtain.

"Have you boy's been holding out on me?" She lifted the edge of the curtain to expose two rocket grenades, and a grenade launcher, all stamped with British Army identification numbers. "Michael, did you buy me a present? It's not my birthday for another two months."

"I thought when the police come to investigate if they found this it would seal the fate of the Devlins." Michael leaned over her shoulder, and pulled the curtain away completely revealing three automatic machine pistols and a pump action shotgun. "And these, according to your cousin were used in a bank robbery in Sligo two months ago."

With a little sigh of disappointment she turned to face him. "And the reason you didn't mention it before?"

"That would be my idea." O'Keefe's voice drifted over from where he was watching the road. "I knew you would be wanting to use that toy on the Devlins, but it ain't gonna happen darlin'. The damn thing came in with a consignment of rifles, I don't know where the Libyans got it from and I didn't ask."

She turned to Michael, her arms wrapping around his waist. "I've never fired a RPG Michael." She whispered, looking around him at the device, and then reaching up to brush her lips against his mouth. "Couldn't we just leave them the guns?"

"No. The guns might do it, but the Grenade launcher will get them some quality time with both the Irish and British intelligence services." He replied, trying to remain focussed on the job.

She moved her lips from the side of his mouth laying gentle nipping kisses along his jaw until she reached his ear. Her warm breath caressing his neck. "You can't resist involving ya spy friends can you _Westen_? Has anybody ever told ya what a bastard you are?" She hissed.

He closed his eyes, thinking briefly about all the missions he had run with Larry Sizemore. Then he looked down at her, his expression deadly serious. "You have no idea how much of a bastard I can be."

Fiona's breath quickened as it always did when he looked at her that way. She knew she should hate him, and she definitely should not be sleeping with him, but there was just something that drew her to stay with him, to keep his secrets.

She splayed her fingers out across his back, feeling the play of his muscles under the shirt. Then with a soft sigh she pressed even closer to him. Explosives waiting to go boom, big guns laying within easy reach, and her arms wrapped around a hot man. She wondered what she'd done to deserve such riches.

"Er, Fi. Fiona, please." Michael tensed, easing her arms from around his waist as her fingers had begun to work their magic on his back. "We have work to do." He wasn't sure if he was reminding her, or himself.

"Fine." She reluctantly pulled her gaze away from the grenade launcher, and straightened up. "Ryan, come make yourself useful take those sticks of dynamite, put one in the compactor, another couple in the crane and..." She scanned the scrapyard looking for something, then her eyes saw it in the dark. A wire cage holding all the old car batteries. "There, a couple in with the batteries." They would have to make sure they were well clear when the acid started raining down.

O'Keefe strolled over to take the box. "Remember, we're here to get them arrested, not blown into the Irish sea." He growled.

"If they end up in the sea then the coastguard can arrest them." She replied lightly. "Besides I haven't hurt them yet, and you promised." She crossed her arms over her chest and turned back to face Michael.

Michael nodded towards where car headlights could be seen winding their way along the road leading to the scrapyard from the city. "I think the Devlins have found us." He commented dryly. "It looks like you'll get your wish. Let's get all these little toys planted before they get here."

With the explosives in place Fiona, Michael, and O'Keefe hid behind a mountain made up of broken washing machines, and other household appliances. Watching as two Range Rovers pulled up in the small compound that surrounded the portacabin office.

A tall burly man, dressed like an undertaker got out of the first vehicle, his face contorted in anger. "They're in here somewhere, go find the feckers. I'm gonna make that bitch watch me rip her bastid followers to pieces before she gets a dip in the acid bath. I'm gonna make sure they hear her screams in Donegal."

Fiona leaned in close against Michael whispering in his ear. "That charming fella is Declan Devlin. He's the brains of the bunch." She sniggered watching as the Devlins men spread out to search the scrapyard.

"Which one's his brother?" Michael whispered back.

"The young guy in the tracksuit wearing all the gold." She replied "Dara Declan is the one who likes to use shotguns on children." She felt Michael stiffen and punched him on the arm. "He's mine Michael. You touch him and you'll spend the night sleeping in a hedge."

He flashed his teeth in a grin. "Yes Ma'am."

"And watch yer damn accent. Ryan might be me cousin but he'll gut you if he finds out who you really are."

"Fine." He moved away from her. "Tis it alright wiv ya my _Alannah,_ if I go clobber that wee fella sneaking between the pile o tyres?" He thicken his accent, adding a sing song lilt, before setting off snaking through the wrecked vehicles.

"Stupid Yank." Fiona muttered under her breath, and with a snap of her wrist extended the telescopic baton she held in her hand. Her target was a tall skinny man in his late forties who was holding a heavy looking metal bar.

As soon as the Devlin's and their men had exited the cars, O'Keefe had moved away from the others. He had already picked his victims, two weeks earlier two of the Devlin's men had broken his brother in law's arm because of an unpaid debt. Those same two men were now moving in tandem through the maze of broken vehicles.

With a final check on his cousin and her boyfriend he left them to their own devices and set off after his targets. He decided on a quick and easy attack and picked up a long scaffolding pole, wedging one end under a car perched on top of another. He waited until the opportune moment and then used all his might to topple the car on top on to the two men.

The loud squeal of metal grinding against metal followed by a crash and sound of men being crushed under a fallen vehicle caused everybody but Michael to pause. He had spent the last seven years of his life on a variety of battlefields and more recently on covert operations throughout Eastern Europe. It took more than the sound of injured men to make him lose focus.

His first victim very much like O'Keefe's targets didn't know what hit him. Michael pounced from behind, his arms wrapping round the man's head and throat, his legs around the man's waist. Michael bore him to the ground cutting off his air until he passed out.

The second man thought he was sneaking up on the kid strangling his partner but as he stuck a gun into Michael's back he found his hand grabbed and forced back until his wrist snapped and then the heel of a shoe catching him between the legs. Michael jumped to his feet, finishing the groaning man off with a blow to the head. When he looked up Michael saw O'Keefe watching him, a thoughtful expression on his face.

For a moment the two men eyed each other, then a high pitched squeal and the sound of a body crashing against metal had them both sprinting in the direction of where they had left Fiona. They came to a stop, both ready to pounce until they saw Fiona straightening her coat and pulling on her pony tail to keep it tight to her head. Two men, both of them a lot bigger than her were laid out on the ground. She snapped her wrist, and the telescopic baton retracted back into the handle.

"Ok, we've got rid o the hangers on. Let's go see the big men now." She growled. "Ryan would you do the honors with the dynamite while me and Michael see to the Devlins."

"Sure thing darlin' just remember to leave them alive."

He watched them walk off each holding a sawn off shotgun, full of confidence in their ability to take on four of the most feared men in East Dublin. He heard the first shot, and cry of pain and went to connect the fuse wires to the detonators.

Fiona stepped out from amongst the wrecked cars, and as the men turned to face her she levelled the shotgun and fired both barrels. A small scary smile curved her lips upwards, in the glow of the car headlights she looked truly insane.

Dara Devlin lay collapsed on the ground at her feet, his lower legs a bloody mess. He was still screaming when she planted the heel of her boot into his shoulder pining him the ground.

"Ya fecking Bitch!" Declan roared bringing his own gun up only to have it torn from his arms by the blast from Michael's gun.

The only sound was the crack of Michael racking more rounds into his shotgun, and the weeping wails of Dara Devlin.

"Dec, me legs! The bitch has crippled me, kill her!"

"Oh shut up. You're suffering no worse than the children you enjoy hurting so much." She growled callously, pushing down on his shoulder. "Let the grown ups talk a while."

"Do you know who you're messing with?" Declan was rubbing at his face and arms where stray pellets from Michael's shot had struck his clothes and skin.

"Dead men, I'm talking to a bunch of dead men." Fiona spat out the words. "You've hurt your last child Devlin, and yer out of the protection business for good."

"Who the hell..." He finished with a yelp as Michael fired a round into the ground inches from his feet. Declan jumped back, his face red with rage.

The four men in the compound watched as Michael moved round and opened the back of an old panel van. "Pick up this pile of shite and get in the van." Fiona ordered moving back so they could reach Dara without getting close to her.

"What are you going to do?" One of the men asked.

"That's for me to know. But I'll tell you this if you ain't in the van in five seconds I'm gonna start shooting bits off you until ya move." Fiona answered, aiming the barrel of her gun at the speaker's legs.

In just over five seconds all the men were in the vehicle, and while Michael made sure the doors were padlocked shut she waved O'Keefe to move the crane into position. They watched the crane lift the van up in the air, locking it in position so the vehicle dangled fifty feet over the scrapyard. Then they all walked away, Michael dialling the emergency services.

"_Emergency which service?"_

Michael grinned at the others before answering. "Oh I think all of them. At Devlins Scrapyard." He paused, then continued. "Best include the coastguard in that."

"_Sir. Can you give me your name? And tell me what's happened?"_

"Oh You'll hear it in a second." He closed the phone, and locked eyes with Fiona as she pressed the trigger switch.

Michael was right the explosion was heard all over Eastern Dublin and the pyrotechnic display was seen even further away.

Ryan O'Keefe watched the van holding the Devlins and two of their best bodyguards sway dangerously, held in place only by a crane with broken controls. "Now how the hell do you think the Garda will get them down from there?" He asked, a look of wonder on his face.

Michael and Fiona studied the vehicle then with a shrug they turned away. "They can stay up there for all I care." Fiona muttered. "Come on, I want to go home."

**()**

"Well now, doesn't the good word travel fast." O'Keefe smiled, pointing out of the car window as he stopped the car outside the block of flats Fiona and Michael called home.

After getting out of the car Michael stared upwards, the whole of the tenth floor seemed to be having a party. The long balcony filled with drunken men and women celebrating the removal of the Devlin brothers from their community.

"_**Hey! There they are! Get on up here... Hey c'mon get off ya arses an join the party!"**_

Michael winced, this was the last thing he wanted, as a spy he was used to doing his job quietly, and then walking away. If he couldn't do it quietly he did his best to make sure he left no trace of his involvement. Having his drunken neighbours boasting about his activities from the tenth floor of a block of inner city flats was definitely bad spycraft.

"Well you two go enjoy yourselves, I've got a home to get to." O'Keefe laughed, revving the car engine before driving off honking the car horn much to the delight of the watching crowd hanging over the balcony.

Fiona was smiling and waving to the well wishers. "Oh come on Michael lighten up." She laughed, as she began to drag him towards the stairs. "It's a party, and we're the guests of honor. Try to crack a smile."

He drew in a sharp breath and set his shoulders before fixing her with a wide toothy smile. " Fine let's get this over with." He replied stiffly, and led the way up the concrete steps the hollow echoing sound of their footsteps could barely be heard because of the thumping beat of the music coming from above.

They stepped onto the balcony, and within seconds Fiona was gone, dragged away from his side by a group of women. But any hope Michael had of sneaking away was quashed when a hand slapped him on the back, and another man pushed a pint glass of clear liquid at him.

"Get that down ya man!" Michael was nearly knocked off his feet by the smell of alcohol coming from the man's breath. He sniffed the drink, paling slightly when he realized what they expected him to knock back. Taking a deep breath he poured the home made spirit down his throat feeling it burn all the way down to his stomach.

"Good man!" He received another blow to the back and a rough hand messed up his hair. "Get over here now we want ta hear all about it."

"Yeah, twas a lovely explosion. Pity it didna last any longer." Another voice shouted.

"Brody said ya left them Devlin's hanging in der air. Is it true Mister, did ya do that?" A younger voice cut in, and pretty soon Michael found himself with an audience.

He had no idea how long he was left to the tender mercies of his neighbours. His head was spinning by the time Fiona came back to rescue him. She pulled him upright and nearly collapsed when he fell against her. "What have you been drinking Michael?" She gasped. "You smell like a brewery."

"Ish ya fault." He slurred, placing slobbering kisses over her neck . "Dey gave me Poteen."

"Poteen? Jaysus Michael. How much did ya drink?"

"Aw c'mon woman, leave the poor boy alone." One of Michael's drinking friends laughed. "It'll put hair on his chest."

"Lesh go home." He slipped his arms around her. As they staggered the sort distance to their front door. "You were right, itsh a great party."

"Yeah well let's hope you feel the same way in the morning." She replied, sending him through the door.

While she locked the front door and checked the windows she listened to the sounds of him staggering across the room, knocking into the coffee table and kicking the bedroom door open.

Finally she turned towards the bedroom and went to see what state her boyfriend was in. She smiled at that thought realizing she thought of him as her boyfriend again. The smile only faltered slightly when she found him, face down, fully clothed and fast asleep.

Crossing her arms she leaned against the door frame and studied her drunken lover's comatose body. For some inane reason she couldn't help smiling, they had done something good, ridding a community of bullies. Now if she could just convince him to forget about being a spy her world would be complete.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen. **

**A/N: Ok I know this is late, I started writing it before Christmas then got distracted by shopping and Grandchildren and all the other joys of Yule time. But I found it the other day, hidden away on my computer, and after getting Amanda Hawthorn and Daisyday to read it through I've decided to post it now. Consider it a late Christmas treat.  
**

**The First Time: Michael and Fiona's first Christmas.**

"Hurry up Michael. We have a long drive ahead of us." Fiona's voice floated up from the pavement six floors below up to where Michael stood in the living room of their one bedroom flat.

Michael closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. When he had discovered Fiona's plans he had rushed out to put a call through to Langley asking, no begging for an assignment, any assignment. He didn't care what it was doing or where in the world they sent him, just as long as if got him out of Ireland for the next two weeks. But it was as if everybody he knew was conspiring to make him suffer. Raines informed him he was on leave, a reward for the good work on the last job. The man had actually laughed and told him to enjoy himself, and wished him a happy Christmas.

"_Michael!"_

Gritting his teeth he picked up the heavy suitcase. "Coming." He grumbled as he half carried half dragged the baggage out of their flat and down the stairs. This was going to be hell, a curse slipped from between his lips as he stepped out onto the icy pavement.

"C'mon, stop being so grumpy." Fiona was at his side, her eyes shining with excitement a wide happy grin spread across her face. "You'll enjoy yourself. All my brothers will be there, and Ryan and his family. So you won't be surrounded by strangers."

He grimaced, heaving the case into the trunk of the old Volvo Estate car Fiona had got from somewhere. Inside were already several large bags filled with brightly wrapped presents. "You said a small family gathering." He growled.

"I said immediate family." She corrected. "Me Mother, me brothers and their wives and children. Me mum's sister and her husband and their kids and grand kids, and just a few other friends and family. No more than a hundred or so, and not all at once." She punched his arm lightly. "Oh cheer up. It's a long drive to Galway and I don't want you pouting all the way there."

Slamming the trunk shut Michael went round to the driver's side and climbed behind the wheel. He sat there still looking miserable until Fiona joined him inside the car. "I told you, families. Especially the whole Christmas thing it's not me." He started the engine and drove slowly away from the flats and headed West.

"Well it is now. What good Irish boy wouldn't want a home cooked meal and all his family around him on such a special day." She leaned into him, rubbing her cheek on his shoulder.

"This one." He muttered under his breath.

They travelled for an hour in uncomfortable silence, before Fiona had finally had enough. "So tell me why do you hate Christmas?"

"I don't _hate_ Christmas Fi. It's, well it's complicated. Holidays weren't a good time in our house."

They were out in the countryside now and the light layer of snow covering the fields on either side of the motorway had lightened his mood a little bit. He hadn't seen snow except on the TV or in pictures until he was eighteen. The large white flakes fascinated him, he had loved Russia in the winter. He took his left hand off the steering wheel and linked his fingers with hers, resting them on his leg.

"Tell me about your Mother Michael." Fiona requested.

"Fi. Please let's not go there. If you want me to cheer up don't make me talk about her."

It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him that she knew absolutely nothing about who he really was, and it was becoming more and more frustrating. Especially now, when they were going to be meeting her family.

"Ok then." She smiled coming up with a new game to play. "We'll have to make a family up for you, and why you're not with them."

He looked over and caught the devilish glint in her eyes. "Fi." He warned.

"So why haven't we visited your dear old Ma in Kilkenny?" She asked with a smile.

"Michael McBride was born in Kilkenny. His Dad died in a car accident when he was very young, and his Ma has remarried and lives in America. He is an only child..."

"So that's the story we have to stick to?" She interrupted his well rehearsed cover.

"It's a good cover, easy to remember and hard to disprove."

"It's boring."

"Very boring." He agreed.

They had pulled off the motorway and were on narrow winding lanes leading into the hills surrounding Galway. Eventually he left the tarmacked lanes and was onto a slippery mud covered track. Up ahead he could see a farm house, the yard decorated with sparkling fairy lights, and filled with parked cars.

"Oh look! I think we must be the last to arrive." Fiona laughed.

As soon as the Volvo came to a stop, the car was surrounded by a mass of men, women and children all calling out at once all trying to greet them, and eagerly helping to carry the bags inside. Michael sent Fiona a panicked look pleading for help as a variety of people began to introduce themselves and inquire about his family, health and job prospects.

Inside the farmhouse he was immediately struck by the heat emanating from a large fire blazing away in a magnificent stone fireplace. The darkness of the room offset by all the bright red and green decorations, sparkling tinsel and winter blooming plants. As his eyes grew accustomed to the room and he began to work out where the exits were, he realized every single seat and spare flat surface was occupied by a member of Fiona's extended family. And they were all looking at him.

If he had been able to he would have run away there and then. All the way back to Miami, if necessary. At least there he only had to deal with his Dad's hostility, and his Mom's clingy neediness.

A couple of hours later he had lost count of how many Patricks, Josephs, Marys and Kathleens he had been introduced to. How many sharp eyed old ladies had pinched his cheek while complimenting Fiona on her darlin' boy, and dodging enquiries to when were they getting married.

All around them groups of children played, some sitting on any spare piece of floor playing with cars, dolls or board games, others ran about using the bodies of the adults to hide behind in games of hide and seek.

"Michael." Fiona touched his arm smiled up at him. "My Mother has just arrived, with Sean. She wants to meet you. In the front parlour."

He paled, he was twenty seven years old and he had never had to deal with a formal introduction to a girlfriend's family. Before the Army no girl he dated wanted to take him home to meet her parents, and afterwards, well once he was in the military the career had taken over his life. It struck him there and then how serious he was becoming about Fiona Glenanne.

They pushed through the crowd, and made their to the quiet sanctuary of the best room in the house. Sitting in a high backed chair next to the fire, Maureen Glenanne looked up and smiled as her only girl came into the room with her current boyfriend. One that apparently Sean, and her nephew Ryan thought was a serious contender for marriage.

"Fiona." She smiled getting to her feet she came forward to wrap her child in a hug. Laying kisses in her hair. "You've lost weight." She fondly cupped her daughter's cheek, before turning to look the man standing in the door way over. "Come in boy, I don't bite." She moved back to her chair, trying to get warm after the long drive from Dublin.

"Mum, this is Michael McBride." Fiona pulled Michael into the room.

He stood still and silent while the woman who looked like an older version of Fiona looked him up and down. His uneasiness seemed to give her a level of pleasure, if the sparkle in her eyes was anything to go by.

After subjecting him to a long uncomfortable scrunity, she eventually seemed satisfied and relaxed back into the chair.

"Before we get to know each other, I need to clear the air." She gave Fiona a stern look. "Your Aunt Mary Margaret is worry... Well she's worried about the sleeping arrangements."

Michael glanced down at Fiona's face as it blushed scarlet, she looked back up at him a mortified expression on her face. Michael shuffled from one foot to the other wishing the ground would open up. How old did they think he and Fiona were, they were adults.

"I know you're living in sin." Fiona's Mother announced sternly. "And I can't say I'm happy about it, you especially Fiona should know better." She turned to Michael. "And what does your Mother have to say about it?"

"My Mother is in America she..." He stopped when she held a hand up in a gesture so reminiscent of Fiona he nearly gasped.

"Ah, I see. So it is up to me to lay down the law on this matter. I can't stop you doing whatever it is you do in your own home." She looked from one to the other. " But here, under your Aunty Mary Margaret's roof. You'll live as God intended. Mister McBride you'll be sleeping with Fiona's younger brother Colin out in one of the caravans. And you my girl will be in house sharing a room with your cousins Angela, Roisin and Mary Ann." She smiled at the look on the two young peoples faces.

"Michael." Fiona's icy clipped tone chilled the air. "Would you like to go get another drink I need to speak to my Mother. Alone."

"Sure." He was heading out of the door as fast as he could. Even as the door shut he could hear sharp, female voices raised in anger. He managed two steps when a strong hand closed around his bicep.

"McBride." Sean growled into his ear. "It's time for that wee talk."

**()**

Fiona came out of the front parlour fifteen minutes later, her arm wrapped around her Mother's tiny waist, her head resting on her shoulder. The two women made their way through the groups of relatives, their argument as loud as it had been, had ended as quickly as it had started. Maureen was happy that her baby girl seemed to have finally found a man she loved, even if she was living out of wedlock with him. Fiona was just happy to have all her family around her, and all of them seemed to have taken to her boyfriend. Besides the farm was a big place with plenty of out buildings, and empty rooms.

"Has anybody seen Michael?" She looked around the room unable to locate her boyfriend.

"He went outside with Sean, Ryan and a few of the boys." Aunty Mary Margaret answered her from her position next to the living room fire.

Several of the older women and men laughed as Fiona ran for the door, only stopping to find, and put on her shoes. "Oh darlin' they're only welcomin' 'im in ta the family." Her Great Uncle Patrick called out as she rushed out of the door.

She rushed over the farmyard, leaping over puddles and dodging round all the parked vehicles. Ahead of her she could hear the cheers and catcalls of her drunken brothers and cousins along with the dull slaps of fists hitting bare flesh.

"Gerroutta the way. Yer bunch of lousy drunken scumbags!" She pushed her way through the crowd, using her fists, elbows and feet.

Reaching the front she came to a stop, there was Sean and Michael bare chested and bloody, looking to be on their last legs throwing weak uncoordinated punches at each other. Angrily staring around she spotted her cousin Ryan trading money with her brother Colin. They were all betting on the out come of the fight between her big brother and her boyfriend.

"ALL OF YA! OUT O' HERE NOW!" She yelled, her hand coming up, and round slapping the back of the head of the nearest man to her.

"C'mon! Shift ya selves you bunch of worthless, low down, lazy arsed, idjits." With every word she caught another one of the men a blow until they were all fleeing back to the safety of the main house.

"And you two!" She rounded on Michael and Sean who were still stood in the middle of the makeshift ring, leaning against each other beaten and bloody.

Sean pushed himself upright, grinning through bloody lips. "Welcome to the family McBride." He laughed and staggered away, ducking the punch that his little sister aimed at his head.

With the barn emptied Fiona turned her attention to Michael. He walked slowly to her side, cupping her cheek with a bloody and swollen hand. "I think ya brother likes me."

She raised a hand and gently inspected the damage done to his face, relieved when she saw it was all superficial. " Well I'm glad somebody does, cos you ain't my favourite at the moment." She slipped her shoulder under his arm. "C'mon let's get ya over to the caravan and tidied up."

Michael came to a stop just inside the caravan door. Laying on the bench seats their faces still flush from watching the fight were Colin and Joe. The table top between them covered in empty Lager cans. Fiona looked round Michael's shoulder glaring at her brothers.

"The pair of yerse out. Now!" She ordered, pushing passed Michael to knock a couple of the cans onto Colin's lap.

"Do yer know what Ma'll do to ya if she finds out you're in here alone with McBride?" Colin growled, brushing the cans onto the floor.

"She'll tan yer arse raw." Joe Smirked, until Fiona turned to glare at him.

"Get out now, and if Ma finds out I'm gonna come looking for the pair of ya with the plough handle I saw out there."

Michael stood aside as the two youngest Glenanne men bolted from the caravan. Once they were alone he closed the door and dropped the poor excuse for a latch.

"Sit down." Fiona ordered her anger still bubbling under the surface. She ran the water until she had a plastic bowl filled with warm water. Transferring the bowl from the sink to the table she then looked him over, her lips parting slightly at the sight of his semi naked body.

Tearing her eyes away from the deep rise and fall of Michael's bare chest she slapped a damp wash cloth into his hand. "Clean the blood of your face. Let's see if anywhere needs stitching up."

As Michael carefully wiped over his face, he suddenly became very aware of Fiona kneeling between his legs dabbing the edge of a damp towel over his chest and stomach. Then the towel was forgotten as her hands started to glide over his freshly bruised ribs, and skimming the ridges of his abs.

"Fi. Fiona." Michael took her hands in his. "Your Mother." He reminded.

She smiled up at him, and slowly began to increase the search radius of her hands as they inched over his torso and up on to his chest her thumbs circling his nipples. "You're not frightened of one little auld woman are you?" Her breath caressed his stomach causing him to gasp.

"It's not one little old woman Fi, it's a whole house full of them. And they all look alike."

"Well." She kissed the skin just above his waistband.

"You'll." She pulled the buckle free on his belt.

"Have." The button popped on his jeans.

"To." The zip was lowered.

"Be quiet." She pulled his jeans open and down low on his hips.

"Fi." Michael hissed, his hands on her arms, trying to stop what was coming while he could.

"Shhh, you don't want anybody to come in now do you?" She smirked enjoying his discomfort. Freeing her arms she grasped the waistband of his boxers "Now what do we have here?" She raised an eyebrow, before carefully pulling his underwear down revealing all. "Oh my." She smiled up at him.

Michael threw his head back, a soft moan escaping from his lips as he felt Fiona applying her own lips to a very sensitive part of his body. All thoughts of self preservation dissipated into the ether as her tongue, lips and hands made his mind go completely blank.

"Fi." He panted her name out, his fingers clutching at her shoulders and then her hair. "Fi. Oh god. Fi." He gasped, pulling her away, a thin line of sweat ran down his heaving chest. "I, I want."

She shimmied onto his lap sitting astride his hips. "What do you want Michael?" She asked, her own voice husky with desire. She slipped her jumper off over her head and sent her bra to join it on the floor. "This? Is this what you want?"

His hands shot up caressing and kneading the exposed flesh. "You Fi I want you." He began to lay kisses along her collar bone and onto her neck. His hands moving to undo her jeans making room for his fingers to slip inside to the warm slickness of her own heat. "I want you now." He growled into her ear, raising up and twisting to drop her down onto the narrow bench seat.

She lay back a dreamy smile lit up her face, her arms raised over her head her hair tumbling wild and free about her face and off the side of the bench. She watched him through half open lust filled eyes as he dragged off her boots and jeans before covering her with his own semi naked body. He held himself above her, by one hand braced on the back of the seat, as he raised one of her legs with the other. They locked eyes as he slowly slipped into her, sharing soft moans of pleasure as they joined.

For a mere second they froze trapped in each others gaze, unmoving except for the matching beats of their hearts. Then the spell broke as Fiona locked her legs tightly around his waist and pulled his head down into a deep passionate kiss. Unable to contain himself any longer Michael drove into her time and time again, taking her to the edge of heaven before sending them both crashing over the edge into nerve shattering ecstasy.

Catching his breath Michael shifted off her, letting her sit up. Her arms curled around his neck and she nestled against him. Pressing a kiss against the side of his mouth over the fresh cut made by Sean's fist.

"We should get back inside before somebody comes looking for us." Fiona sighed, making no effort to get up. "I'll be wanted in the kitchen serving up the meal and you'll be expected to sit on your arse at the table with the other men drinking beer waiting for me to put your dinner in front of ya."

He smiled at the thought of Fiona waiting on him. The smile turning to a grunt when a sharp pointy elbow jabbed into his sore ribs. "Oh don't get too comfortable with the thought Michael, or you just might end up with the gravy bowl over your thick head."

A sudden loud **Bang **on the door to the caravan shook them both. "Fiona Ciaran Glenanne!"

"Me Mum!" Fiona gulped, pushing Michael out of the way she grabbed up her jumper and bra.

"Fiona? Michael? I know you're in there!" Followed by more banging.

"You'll have to talk to her." Fiona hissed heading for one the bedrooms.

"_Me? What the hell? Fi, Fiona!" _Michael tried to follow her talking in a low whisper as the banging continued.

"I'm going out of the window. Now go keep her at the door."

Hurriedly pulling up his boxers and jeans Michael headed for the door. With a final check that everything was put away and buttoned up he took a deep breath and opened the door a wide toothy smile firmly in place.

Maureen Glenanne looked Michael up and down her expression decidedly frosty at the sight of her daughter's semi-naked boyfriend blocking the doorway.

"And where is Fiona?" She asked, trying to peer around his body.

"Not here Mrs Glenanne. She saw me back and then went off. Have you checked the house?"

She gave him a long stony stare which said very plainly. _You're not fooling me one bit boy._

Dropping his gaze he stood to one side. "Would ya be happier if ya came in fer a little look see?"

Just as she climbed inside she turned at the sound of a familiar voice. "Ma? What are you doing out here? I've been looking for you everywhere. You're wanted in the kitchen. Aunty Coleen and Aunty Bridget are arguing over who makes the onion gravy."

Michael managed to hide his relief at Fiona's sudden appearance, and when Maureen glanced up at him he had schooled his features into those of a completely innocent bystander. He tensed as a hard sharp finger poked him in the ribs, right on top of a fresh bruise.

"I've got me eye on you boy." Maureen growled, before climbing back out of the caravan and joining her daughter to walk back to the house.

"Get cleaned up Michael." Fiona's voice floated back. "Christmas dinner will be ready in ten minutes."

**A/N: Again sorry for the lateness. Wishing you all a happy new year.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: **_**I do not own Burn Notice, nor any of the rights to the song 'naughty girl' sung by Beyonce Knowles, Written by Knowles, Scott Storch, Robert Waller and Angela Beyincé .**__**This is all done for fun.**_

**x**

**A/N: **_**First of all I would like to thank Jedi Skysinger, Daisyday, And Amanda Hawthorn for reading through and convincing me to post this story. **_

**x**

**x**

**The First Time: Purdy's Pal posted a song fic, and a piece with absolutely no plot.**

_**Fiona is feeling naughty.**_

It was a hot humid Sunday afternoon. The hot Miami sun was shining straight through the open balcony doors in Michael's loft. While Michael sat at the counter top with a pile of CIA paperwork spread out before him, Fiona lay on their bed flicking through an old celebrity magazine. In the background, the radio was playing softly.

Hot, uncomfortable and bored, Fiona got to her feet and spun the volume dial up several notches. The channel was playing dance tunes from several years ago and Fiona was not only bored, she was feeling - naughty.

_"I love to love you, baby"_

Her body began to gyrate to the music, her arms raised above her head. Her hands lanquidly circling in the air.

_"I love to love you baby."_

Her hips swayed as her feet moved to the beat of the music filling the loft. Throwing her head back, she ran her fingers through her long reddish-brown hair.

_"I'm feelin' sexy"_

She spun around, the sunlight streaming through the open doors making her billowing white sundress translucent.

_"I wanna hear you say my name, boy"_

Revealing her lack of underwear.

_"If you can reach me"_

Michael had glanced up as soon as the music had got louder. For a moment, he watched Fiona dance around open space between the bed and where he sat until he could take no more.

_"You can feel my burning flame"_

He came out of nowhere, his arm snaking around her waist pulling her in close to his body. She felt his warm breath on her neck, as she ground her hips against his thigh.

_"I'm feelin kind of n-a-s-t-y"_

He raised his knee slightly, sliding it between her thighs as his nimble fingers made quick work of the zipper on her dress.

_"I just might take you home with me"_

All the while her own fingers were tracing patterns over his bare chest. _"When did she unbutton his shirt?" _He didn't care; her fingers were now circling his nipples.

_"Baby, the minute I feel your energy"_

Before they reached lower caressing their way down inside the waistband of his jeans.

_"Your vibe's just taken over me"_

Her dress fell to the floor, pooled at her feet. Now it was his turn.

_"Start feelin so crazy, babe"_

He lifted her easily, spinning her in the air, as his feet glided across the wooden floor.

_"Lately, I feel the funk coming over me"_

She landed lightly, keeping pace with him as he drew her in close again.

_"I don't know what's gotten into me"_

His lips pressing against hers, his tongue enticing her to allow him entry to her mouth.

_"The rhythm's got me feelin so crazy babe"_

Gasping, as his hands began to roam over her body, setting her senses alight. She parted her lips, her teeth and their tongues joined in the wild dance, sending shivers through her tiny frame.

_Tonight I'll be your naughty girl_

_I'm callin all my girls_

_We're gonna turn this party out_

_I know you want my body_

_Tonight I'll be your naughty girl_

_I'm callin all my girls_

_I see you look me up and down_

_And I came to party_

His hands, his fingertips, his tongue controlled the dance as he guided their flowing steps around the room. He pinned her for a second, her back against the counter top, before she forced him backwards with kisses and caresses until he felt the steel wire frame next to the stairs.

_"You're so sexy; tonight I am all yours, boy"_

Her teeth on his neck, then biting into his shoulder. Her fingers on his jeans zipper, inside his boxers, touching so tantalizingly close to where he needed them.

_"The way your body moves across the floor"_

All the while she continued to move her hips giving him a hint of what was to come.

_"You got me feelin n-a-s-t-y"_

She dropped lower, her hands curving around his thighs while his fingers tangled in her hair.

_"I just might take you home with me"_

The world stopped, his eyes closed, his jeans and boxers joined her dress on the floor.

_"Baby, the minute i feel your energy"_

"Fi, the doors... The …." He broke their silent dance, but the music drowned out his words, and her lips and tongue caused his mind to blank.

_"The vibe's just taken over me"_

He pulled her up, mesmerized by the way her tongue flickered out to wet her full pouting lips.

_"Start feelin so crazy, babe"_

He spun her around again until she dropped onto the bed.

_"Lately, I feel the funk coming over me"_

Leaning over her, he pressed hundreds of tiny featherlight kisses over her face and neck.

_"I don't know what's gotten into me"_

His lips moving lower, while is hands returned to their rediscovery of her body.

_"The rhythm's got me feelin so crazy babe"_

As the sun rose higher in the sky and no longer intruded through the open doors, they joined together.

_Tonight I'll be your naughty girl_

_I'm callin all my girls_

_We're gonna turn this party out_

_I know you want my body_

_Tonight I'll be your naughty girl_

_I'm callin all my girls_

_I see you look me up and down_

_And I came to party_

_I love to love you baby_

_I love to love you baby_

_I love to love you baby_

_I love to love you baby_

The song finished a long time before they did, but even as they lay side by side their bodies glistening, their chests rising and falling in unison, they could both still hear the words and the salsa beat.

_Tonight I'll be your naughty girl_

_I'm callin all my girls_

_We're gonna turn this party out_

_I know you want my body_

_Tonight I'll be your naughty girl_

_I'm callin all my girls_

_I see you look me up and down_

_And I came to party_

As Fiona's hand brushed against Michael's bare thigh, he turned his head and smirked before rolling on to his side, his hand reaching across to stroke …..


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:- I don't own Burn Notice, this is all for fun.**

**Nor do I own any part of this song:- Recorded by DJ Sammy, We're in Heaven (Candlelight Mix).**

**()()  
**

**The First time Michael Realized He Had Found Heaven.**

**.  
**

_**A/N: For all those who asked for a little bit more after Naughty Girl. BETAed by Jedi Skysinger, Thank you so much for the quick work.  
**_

It was the hum and gentle clatter of his cell phone making its way across the upended wooden crate that acted as his bed side table that woke Michael from his blissful sleep. In the background he could hear the soft melody of yet another old song. With bleary eyes he reached across and checked the caller ID. The display panel was lit up with three letters _SAM. _With a groan, Michael switched the phone off.

The melody was now accompanied by a velvety feminine voice.

_Oh, thinking about all our younger years  
There was only you and me  
We were young and wild and free  
Now nothing can take you away from me  
We've been down that road before  
But that's over now  
You keep me coming back for more_

He turned over in the bed, the movement pulling the sheet away from the slumbering form of his own piece of heaven. Her features were soft and relaxed with a small smile curving her lips up at the corners, her long auburn hair tousled and tangled from their earlier passion, his naughty girl, his angel, his Irish devil woman.

_Baby, you're all that I want  
When you're lying here in my arms,  
I'm finding it hard to believe  
We're in heaven_

He couldn't resist ever so gently caressing her cheek; his thumb ghosting across her kiss bruised upper lip. He paused as she stirred her body, writhing upon the bed, her long limbs kicking the covers onto the floor. He drank in the sight of sinewy lithe muscles moving under silky soft skin. She ended up on her back, arching upwards.

His eyes were instantly drawn from her taunt stomach to the two perfect peaks topped by hard little nipples. A sound escaped his lips, a cross between a sigh and a growl, and he lowered his head to lightly press his lips to one nipple and then the other. One hand splayed out across her belly, aching to travel lower.

_And love is all that I need,  
And I found it there in your heart  
It isn't too hard to see  
__We're in heaven_

He stopped. It was getting late in the day. As he went to sit up, her arm snaked up and slender fingers curled into his short hair, holding him in place. Those soft tender kisses turned to so much more as her fingers continued to rake through his hair while he suckled, nipped and licked the soft pliant flesh enclosed between his lips.

She released her hold and he raised his head hungrily reaching for her lips.

"Hey," the word came out husky and full of desire.

"Hey, yourself." Her lips parted and her eyes grew large and then he felt the light scrapping touch of manicured fingertips at the top of his thigh and he forgot how to breathe.

She drew him into a deep kiss, her tongue sliding against his as they tasted each other. In the back of his mind, he remembered a time when it was like this whenever they woke together, a slow languid continuation of the night before. God, how he loved waking up to make love to Fiona Glenanne.

_Oh, once in your life you find someone  
Who will turn your world around  
Pick you up when you're feeling down  
Now nothing could change what you mean to me  
There's a lot that I could say  
But just hold me now  
Cause our love will light the way_

Turn her world around? He had turned her world inside out and upside down, from that first time he had laid her out on the bonnet of a stolen car to the moment he had turned away from the damn files that lay on the counter top and swept her up in his arms three hours earlier.

This was heaven. This was what they used to have before he left her in Dublin. It had been all wild passion followed by sweet sensuous lovemaking. Her memories of Dublin in their little one bedroom flat on the sixth floor of an inner city tower block made her both happy and sad. It had been a time when she had thought they really were wild and free.

She gasped as suddenly it seemed she wasn't the only one who remembered long ago nights filled with rapture. As soon as they broke from the kiss, he rose up and loomed over her, his knees sliding between hers and pushing her legs apart. He looked down upon her with such intensity that she felt he was searching for a way into her soul.

She ran her hands up along his biceps, feeling the taunt powerful muscles bunching under her touch. Her fingers brushed against an old scar and then moved onwards, her thumbs circling then rubbing over his sensitive nipples.

A sweet wicked little smile curved her lips when she caught his sharp intake of breath, but he still refused to be rushed. Then it was her turn to gasp as she felt him ever so slowly slip into her warm depths, igniting a fire in her core.

She breathed in his scent, her tongue flickering out and licking a long line from the center of his breast up to his neck. Reaching up, her mouth latched on to his neck as he joined with her. They were complete and whole... He made her whole.

_Baby you're all that I want  
When you're lying here in my arms,  
I'm finding it hard to believe  
We're in heaven  
And love is all that I need,  
And I found it there in your heart  
It isn't too hard to see  
We're in heaven_

She was all around him. He felt her warm welcome, her tightness, her arms around his neck, pulling his head down so she could claim every part of him. This was where he belonged. This wasn't home, it was heaven.

They paused, letting their breathing become synchronized; there was no rush. This was a moment of bliss to be enjoyed to the fullest. She raised her legs up higher, wrapping them around his waist. She was swallowing him up and he loved every second of the sensation.

With tantalizing slowness, he began to move his hips as they continued to kiss. He wanted this moment to last. He realized now that she was the missing part of his soul. If she was to ever leave him... He dropped on to his elbows, and quickened his pace. He would not allow it. He would keep her safe and in his arms forever.

_I've been waiting for so long  
For something to arrive  
For love to come along  
Now our dreams are coming true  
Through the good times and the bad  
I'll be standing there by you_

_We're in heaven._

Her nails were digging into his back and buttocks, her heels drumming a beat into the back of his thighs. His head was buried in her hair, his teeth grazing her neck and then her shoulder before desperately sneaking out her swollen lips.

They came together, not with shouts and violent panting, but with soft sighs and gentle words. Afterwards, he dropped onto his side, pulling her close so her head rested on his sweat covered chest. He closed his arms around her, cocooning her in his love.

_Baby you're all that I want  
When you're lying here in my arms  
I'm finding it hard to believe  
We're in heaven  
And love is all that I need,  
And I found it there in your heart  
__It isn't too hard to see  
We're in heaven  
Oh, Oh  
Oh, Oh  
We're in heaven _


End file.
